Fate's Mercy
by Nel
Summary: Pt. 2 of the Binds of Fate duology: Kaena's warriors are gathering, and the Destroyer, equipped with the same special gifts as Kaena, is hell bent on destruction. Kaena, and the rest of the warriors now must fight a foe they can't see to save all reality.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sam brushed his hair from his eyes and sat down against a rock formation, squinting against the afternoon sun. He'd been walking for miles, and had yet to find a taker for his outstretched thumb, and the rest of him. He took a swig out of his water bottle and latched it to his backpack again, settling himself under the shade of a scrubby bush. Highway 70 stretched on from beyond Utah all the way to Pennsylvania, but he was only taking it as far as St. Louis, or maybe Kansas City, depending on which way seemed more promising. He had to get to Chicago, and had basically no means to do so.

Sam was a drifter, and had been since he was seventeen and ran away. His father wouldn't have no nancy boy claiming anything about visions, or ghosts, or Tarot cards, and was a little too flamboyant, a little too strange for his own good. He had refused to go to church, despite his Protestant upbringing, ever since the unpleasantness between him and a youth minister when he was ten. He was so often wracked with mind jarring visions that he was virtually disabled. They said it was a seizure disorder, or that he was a paranoid schizophrenic, or possessed, or just malingering, depending on who you asked. Sam didn't think he was any of those things, but what proof did he have? The visions knocked him flat on his back, sometimes, because of their intensity. He would wake up muttering and mumbling about the end of the world, of destruction, magical warriors, and desperately shake until he could write it all down.

He wasn't crazy. He knew he wasn't crazy. And he knew that if he got to Chicago, there would be somebody there who would understand him. He didn't know her name, or what she looked like, and had no idea how he would find her, but he had to get there. He had been sidetracked for almost a year, by strange visions that led him to solve murders or save old ladies from burning buildings all across Colorado and half of Kansas, but now he was determined. Sam examined his raggedy clothes, and shook the change in his pockets. All he'd won or earned since leaving Silverhorn was spent on food and a few necessities like a toothbrush, and some Axe. For some reason, people were hesitant to pick up a stinking bum from the side of the road. Go figure.

Sam pushed himself up. It was late June, and Kansas was a frying pan. He had to get inside, or in a nice car before he passed out from heat stroke. He stumbled toward the road, sliding down the rocky embankment, silently cursing the fool who had ever assured him that Kansas was a nice, flat place. That man had clearly never actually BEEN to Kansas. He'd thought he would be done with hills after the Rockies, but the Flint Hills, while smaller, were much less shaded. He came to the edge of the freeway, and stuck out his thumb, trying to look Not Scary, and definitely Not Stinky. A big, black SUV flew past him, so close he could feel the heat of the car on his face. He stepped back, and then jumped back as another car came careening into the shoulder. He could see the frightened driver noticing him, veering back into traffic, then slowly making her way into the shoulder again. He tightened his grip on his bag and slowly approached the car.

It was a woman, and the car was very nice. It was a new Volkswagen sedan, with a soft tan leather interior, and a pleasant dark blue exterior. He tapped gently on the window, bending down. The woman jumped, and looked at him with dread, horror, and pretty much every emotion of apprehension Sam had ever seen. He tried to smile pleasantly and hoped it didn't look deranged. He cursed himself for not stopping at a Good Will store sooner to replace his ripped up, stained dockers, and the green army-style jacket he draped over his shoulders. His no-name tennis shoes were nothing but a sole with laces by now. At least he'd thought to get a haircut. His sandy blonde hair was a little longer than was respectable, but he liked to think it was dapper rather than 'rebel without a cause' style. He could see his face, which was clean but brown as the dead grass from the sun.

He glanced down and noticed that she had an extremely flat tire, and the girl was frantically shaking her cell phone and turning very pale. Sam tapped the glass again.

"I'm not a rapist or a serial killer," he said in the friendliest tone he could muster, which was, admittedly, pretty damn friendly. "You have a flat. Is your cell dead?"

She looked at him reluctantly, as if willing herself to stop ignoring him for the first time. Her teeth were clenched, but she rolled down the window a half an inch. "I don't have any bars. Do you, um . . . can I see . . . an ID or something?"

Startled, he reached for his pocket, then hesitated. "Why?"

"In case you, you know, try something, I'll know your name."

"But what if I just killed you? I assure you, my ID doesn't say if I'm a crazy murderer one way or the other."

"I've never done this before!" she looked agitated, and he tried to calm her by taking a step back from the door.

"Do you want me to change the tire? Do you have a spare?"

"I don't know, I mean . . . stupid cell phone!"

He smiled at her. She was looking less terrified and more flustered now, which was good. He really wasn't a threat. He certainly wasn't crazy. Maybe he wasn't entirely usual, but he wasn't dangerous, that much he knew.

She looked at her useless cell phone for another moment, and then put her hands on the steering wheel as if she were planning to drive off. He raised his hand to protest, but she slumped, unbuckled her seat belt, and reached for the door handle. Slowly, she pulled the latch, and the door popped open. He stepped back to give her space, and she scrambled nervously out of the car, fists clenched, body pressed up against the door panel.

"I'll look," he said, nodding toward the trunk. His voice felt gravelly in his mouth, though it was usually a fairly pleasant tenor. Must be all the Kansas pollen.

"What?!" she almost shrieked.

"If you pop the trunk, I'll look for a spare," he clarified, making a quelling motion. He understood being wary of a strange man by the side of the road, but was he really that scary looking? He glanced again at his worn clothes. He looked battered, tired, probably, and too thin for comfort, but he wasn't missing teeth or glancing around with wild eyes. At least, Sam didn't think he was.

She reached inside, reluctantly turning her back on him, and pushed the trunk release. He walked around her, trying not to loom too much over her small frame. He hadn't allowed himself to really look her up and down, lest his innocent appraisal be mistaken for lust. What he had glimpsed was quite short, a little rotund, and altogether very pleasant. Her long brown hair was tied in a sensible knot at the back of her head, and her jeans and knit top fit her form nicely.

"Never had a flat before?" he asked thoughtfully, pulling her suitcases out of the trunk, and an odd assortment of lamps and other college looking goodies. He pulled up the soft lining of the trunk, revealing a donut, a tire jack, and a little tool kit. He pulled out the donut and the jack to start, and went to the offending tire, which was on the rear of the driver's side.

"No. This is, um, my first car," she flushed. "I've never driven this far before, by myself."

"Coming home from college for the summer?"

"How did you know?" she asked suspiciously.

"It might be all of the assorted common dorm room items, like the bedding and the desk lamp. Also could be the Colorado Christian College sticker on your bumper," he flashed her a grin.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm, uh, a sophomore. Or I guess I'm a junior now, technically. I just got my license last summer, and my parents drove out with me."

"From Ohio?" he questioned.

To her credit, she didn't ask how he knew, this time. The Ohio license plate was a dead giveaway. "It's a long drive."

"No kidding. Kansas is a big state. I know," he muttered. He would know. He'd walked about half of it! More than half, actually, judging by their location, which was about twenty miles outside of Topeka. "You won't be able to get far with this, especially at highway speeds."

Her face seemed to melt into dismay, and he felt bad for her. She looked young. She'd said she was a junior in college, so he guessed she was twenty, twenty-one, but maybe younger. He busied himself jacking the car up, but couldn't get the hub caps loosened. "Come here," he motioned for her to step closer. "I need your help."

"With what?" she dodged as his hand moved dangerously close to her arm.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly.

She looked down briefly. "Sorry," she mumbled, with no explanation. "What do you need?"

"Stand on this," he pointed to the wrench.

"Stand on it?"

"Put your foot here," he pointed to it, "and put all your weight on it."

"Why don't you?" she asked nervously. Her denim clad leg was beside his face. He sized her up. She was pleasantly round. He had always had an appreciation for women with curves. She would probably be about the right weight.

"I'm too heavy. If I step on it, I'll break it, and somebody needs to steady the wrench," he pointed out. Reluctantly, she placed her foot where he indicated, and then began to push. She was clearly not putting her weight into it. "You have to put your weight on it."

"I don't want to break it," she flushed, seemingly embarrassed.

"You won't break it," he touched her leg lightly, and she almost stepped back, but refrained. "I promise."

She looked skeptically at him, but put one foot on it and pushed, and then at his behest, the other. She hopped up and down on the thing, and the nut slid to the left, loosening. They repeated this until all the nuts were loose, and she stepped back and watched as he pulled off the flat tire and replaced it with the donut. He lowered the jack, put the old tire in the slot where the donut had been, replaced her things, and closed the trunk.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I don't really have any cash, so I can't pay you."

"I didn't do it for money," he shrugged. "I wouldn't mind a ride, though."

"A ride?" she stiffened.

"To Topeka, or Kansas City," he lifted his eyebrows.

"O-oh, right. All right. Will we make it that far?"

"Sure, if we drive slowly. Put on your flashers, and drive in the right lane. We're not far from Topeka."

The girl nodded, and motioned for him to get in. He did so without compunction, and she climbed into the driver's seat and leaned forward over the steering wheel nervously, putting the car in drive and pulling onto the road. She hit the emergency flasher button and pulled to the right, driving about ten miles per hour.

"I think you can probably take it up to thirty-five or forty safely," he pointed out. She glanced at him as if she'd forgotten he was there, and sped up slightly. He sat back and looked out the window. The car was cooling off nicely. Sam glanced at her face, then took a longer look. She was a very pretty girl. She had a round face, with pale blue eyes and a dainty little nose. Her lips were like two soft rose petals, and her chin had a tiny dimple in it. He guessed she was probably about five foot two, judging by how close the seat was to the steering wheel. It didn't look terribly comfortable, actually. Her shapely thighs were a little too close to the steering wheel, though she could easily reach the pedals.

"I take it you don't know a lot about cars?" he asked casually.

She jumped again, then sighed, and shook her head. "No, my dad never taught me anything about cars. I just learned how to drive a year ago, so it's all pretty new."

"Why's that?"

"No reason," she said softly. "So, um, who are you?"

"I'm Sam. Do you want to see my ID?" he joked.

"That's okay," she frowned at him, and he raised his brows expectantly, but she didn't reveal her name. He somehow didn't think she'd take kindly to him rooting through her glove box.

"And you are?"

"Oh! Rowan," she said softly. "I know it's a stupid name."

"It's a beautiful name," he was honestly shocked to hear this self-deprecating comment. He had never met another, but he liked the name immediately.

"My real name is Yancy," he admitted. "But everybody calls me Sam. My middle name's Samuel."

"After the priest of Israel?"

"After my uncle Sam," he quirked a grin. "Who was probably named after the biblical character, come to think of it. Or maybe he had an uncle Sam, too."

"Oh, you have family," she looked surprised.

"Yes, most people do. I don't know any pod people, personally."

She wilted at this, and he lowered his brows in confusion. "Sorry," she apologized. "It was a stupid question."

"Maybe a little unsubtle, but a legitimate question. I think the question you're really looking for is: 'Why are you hitch hiking like a crazy person?' Am I right?"

She flushed, but nodded, and he sat back, looking out the window again. "I have to get to Chicago."

"Is there, a, a job there, or something?"

"A job? How apt. Yes, something like that. Something I have to do. I wish I knew what," he said more to himself, and it was her turn to glance at him. His eye caught the little cross dangling dangerously close to her full breasts, and he averted his gaze from it. He hoped she wouldn't try to save him. "I just have to get there soon."

"I'm going to Akron," she admitted. "I can probably take you, um . . . never mind. Let's figure it out when we get to Topeka."

He nodded and stretched his legs slightly. Most sedans were cramped for his six-foot-two frame, but this car was surprisingly roomy. The passenger seat was pushed back all the way. He wondered if she had a tall boyfriend. She was an odd little mouse, but he liked her. He let the thump-thump of the donut on the road and the angry horns lull him, and slipped into a light doze, and dreamed.

...

Kaena frowned at her reflection. It was wrong. There was just something wrong about it. The dress was beautiful, and hugged her curves in all the right ways, and it was lacy and soft like a cloud around her, but it wasn't right.

"I'm never going to find my dress, and time is running out," she dropped the gown from her figure and turned to Kajri and Kaberi. Luke and Vinny were outside the dressing room, providing male feedback. They liked all the ones that revealed too much cleavage or clung like a second skin to her body. Taka already knew what she looked like naked, and her wedding guests did not need to know that!

"I still like that red dress," Kaberi eyed the deep red gown with gold embellishments that she'd run across in the store room, following the poor, harassed consultant from rack to rack.

"I liked the red one, too, but Americans wear white dresses," she pointed out.

"Neither of you are American."

"All our friends are. Well, mostly. Okay, some. I don't want to walk down the aisle to titters. Besides, Japanese brides wear white dresses if they have a Christian wedding, which is what this is, technically."

"Why did you decide against a Shinto wedding?"

She shrugged her slim shoulders, and sat down on the pedestal behind her. There wasn't any real reason, but she liked the style of American weddings, and didn't really want to have to worry about all the traditions of a Japanese style wedding. "We wanted to get married in Millennium Park, and a Japanese wedding would draw even more attention there than an American style wedding. I don't want strangers popping out of bushes to take pictures of my wedding."

"Fair enough. How's Taka holding up?"

"Nervous, excited, overworked. I put him in charge of all the catering and music choices, since I don't really care about that."

"Does he know your parents are paying for it?"

"Yes, though he's not happy about it. He thinks it's really awkward for mama to pay for him to get married considering . . . anyway, we compromised. They're paying for the reception, and we're paying for the venue, rings, dress, tuxedos, the cake, invites, that sort of thing."

"When are they getting in?" Kajri questioned, holding up a fluffy confection that was totally not her style at all. She shook her head mutely, and Kajri fell back, quelled and pouting.

"Tomorrow," Kaena replied, going to the selections that the consultant had left for her to try on. The poor woman had given up after Kajri and Kaberi had started picking things out and nixing the consultant's choices.

"We have to think through this dress thing logically," Kaberi said suddenly. "You're getting married in the park, right? Is it anywhere near the bean?"

"The bean?" she lifted an eyebrow.

"You know, the big metal bean-shaped sculpture. I think it's called Cloud Gate," Kajri clarified.

"Wrigley Square," Kaena said. "That's where the ceremony will be. Then we'll head over to the Rooftop Terrace for the reception."

"That's the place with the big Roman pillars," Kaberi said. "What about something Grecian?"

Kaena pursed her lips. That was not really her style either. Something between classic and modern, like the park, that's what she needed. The park was full of funky, weird structures, and classic gardens. She needed something that would look at home in either.

Kaberi got a look on her face that suggested she was about to be On A Mission, and she hopped to her feet and hurried back into the store room. The employees milling around didn't even say anything. She and Kajri stared at each other for a minute, and then simply waited for the woman to emerge. She appeared a few moments later with a dress that was in a cloth bag. "Try this one," she thrust the dress into Kaena's hands, and retreated from the changing room.

Curiously, Kaena unzipped the bag. The material felt like soft organza blended with silk. It was crinkly, which wasn't usually Kaena's preference, but the fabric felt so nice, and it was such a nice cream-gold color that she had to put it on. It slipped over her skin like water, and the consultant silently slipped inside to help her with the corset back. She ran her fingers over the fine crystal beading around the bust, and traced along the creped front, down to the little gathers in the full, A-line skirt. She pulled her hair up off her shoulders, and made a serious face, and felt like a bride. Her body tingled from head to toe. She quickly tied her hair up and out of the way.

"Is this the dress, honey?" the woman asked.

Unexpectedly, there were tears in her eyes.

"I think that's a yes. Go show your friends!"

Kaena walked like a zombie, stunned by how right it was, and stepped onto the pedestal in front of Luke, Vinny, Kajri, and Kaberi. The womens' faces lit with pleasure. The men dropped their jaws and said nothing. Totally flabbergasted, Vinny hopped up and hugged her, swinging her around. "You're beautiful, Kaena. Taka is a lucky bastard."

She smiled shyly, and glanced at Luke, who had composed himself rather quickly. He stepped over to her, took a lap around the pedestal, and came to rest in front of her. He took her hands, smiled, and nodded.

"Well done, sis," Kajri held up her hand.

Kaberi slapped her five and hopped up to fuss with the train and talk about the veil they would need, and the shoes, and the jewelry. Kaena let Vinny try to convince Kaberi of the necessity for flats, and stared at herself, stunned. This was really happening. She was going to be married. She was going to be like her parents, with a place they shared, really shared, and a life they could build together. Children, maybe, eventually? Who knew? So many possibilities had opened before her. She giggled a little hysterically.

"But she'll be taller than him," Vinny defended.

"So what? She is a tall, beautiful woman, and the day is about her. She should wear what makes her feel most comfortable!" Kaberi defended gallantly. Kaena didn't care. She wanted to get married today. Well, this weekend, after her parents arrived. But it would be two more long months before that could happen.

"We'll take it," she said at last.

"Don't you even want to know how much it is?" Vinny asked suddenly.

"We'll take it," she repeated. "If I have to dip into my savings, I don't care. I'll take it. For Taka to see me in this dress as he's walking down the aisle, I will pay anything."

Kajri and Kaberi sighed in apparent romantic overload, and Luke just smiled, trying to distract Vinny from his tirade about heels and wedding dresses, and how women just couldn't be reasonable all the time like men, could they? Kaena pointedly ignored this, and allowed her Indian knights to take over the feminist struggle for now. She was honestly too happy to care.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Taka drove the car he'd recently purchased—a late 90s Toyota—toward O'Hare and cursed traffic and fate in equal parts. Kaena had realized the conflict too late to change their plans, so she was off meeting with the cake people, discussing confections, while Taka was driving to the airport to pick up Mr. and Mrs. Gi, e.g., his ex and her husband. He was apprehensive, to say the least. He hadn't seen them since before he had proposed, and even though Kaena said that her father had given his congratulations, he still felt very strange about the whole thing.

Not about Kaena, of course. She was the one piece of this massive wiggling jigsaw puzzle that was his life that seemed to be stationary. She was right, and he knew it, but it didn't change the unresolved history between Taka's former lives and his fiancee's mother, not to mention her father, who he had once killed, and then saved. Nakago still scared the hell out of him, but Taka knew that was mostly psychological. And Miaka . . . was Miaka, and he still loved her, in some vague, distant way, not as a lover, but as a cherished friend. He hoped this marriage would make her happy, both for her daughter, and for him.

Gah, there was no use thinking about all this now. He needed to concentrate, he realized as somebody whizzed past him cursing and making obscene gestures, on his driving. I-294 was scary as hell under the best circumstances, with its perpetual construction and lunatic commuters, but it was 5:30 pm, and he was lucky they were moving at all. All in all, he probably would have preferred not moving. That was also kind of how he felt about his life at the moment. He was happy about the impending wedding, of course, but it felt like things were just moving and changing under him. He had lived the last ten years or so in an equilibrium state—not good, not bad, just there—and it had been comfortable, for all its flaws. He wouldn't trade Kaena for any of it back, but he did miss how normal his life had become, and how predictable. Now he was getting married, applying to graduate schools all over the country, looking at houses and condos, thinking about a pet, or children! It was pretty intense, and somehow he felt like everything was whizzing past him, and he was helplessly studying a map that didn't make any sense.

Life was good, and terrifying. His oldest brother Chuuei, who was to be his best man, was flying in three weeks early, and his sister Yuiren was actually planning on making a move to the area right before the wedding. He hadn't seen them in at least five years, and was anxious to catch up, but also nervous. They were adults now, really adults, not just adolescents or young adults, but full adults. Chuuei had a family, and Yuiren was in a pretty serious relationship herself. While he had stagnated for ten years, others had grown and blossomed around him, or without him. Well, now it was his turn to grow and change. He didn't have

Somebody swerved in front of him, making a bee-line for the next exit, and Taka realized that it was his exit as well. He carefully changed lanes and pulled onto the ramp, decelerating and looking down at his directions. He could see planes coming and going, and wondered if one of those planes was carrying his future in-laws. God, that was weird to think about! He made his way to short term parking, and headed for the terminal. They were scheduled to arrive at six, so he hunkered down on a bench to wait, staring at the exit of the baggage claim area. It had been a really long day. He had worked in the morning, skipped lunch to meet with a caterer, who did not actually feed him, which was a pretty big ripoff in Taka's book, went back to school to teach a few more hours of history, and then met with another caterer briefly before driving north to pick up his in-laws. He began to doze, dreaming of wedding cakes that ate him, angry relatives getting sick off the catering he'd chosen, and Kaena's dress shredding to pieces around her, not to mention losing the rings.

He woke up with a start as a firm hand started to topple him to his side. He looked up at his soon-to-be father-in-law and lifted his brows. The man looked exhausted. The attempt on his life had drained away what yellow had been left in his hair, and it was now a blonde so pale it was almost white. He looked like he had recently gained, and lost, a few pounds, because his skin was distinctly less tight around his jaw and neck area, but he was still an impressive height, and the few extra pounds on him only served to make him look more solid and threatening, rather than soft or old. Miaka was looking distinctly less round than she had, which made her soft skin look a little softer, but didn't detract from the attractiveness of her open, friendly face. She smiled and gave him a firm hug.

"Congratulations, son!" she grinned at him, and there was an edge of irony to her smile.

Taka reeled for a moment. Somehow it was easier to think of Nakago as his father-in-law than it was to think of Miaka as his mother-in-law. He laughed nervously. Nakago frowned judiciously at this exchange, and Taka was pretty sure he was thinking of the implications of Miaka's statement for himself.

"How was the flight?" he asked, pushing himself up and offering to take Miaka's bag from her. She handed over one of the smaller, flower-printed bags to him, still giving him a sweet, yet somehow sinister smile.

"It was fine," she said. "Long, of course, but the service was good, and the food was very good!" She burped as if to punctuate this statement with a demonstration.

"Where is Kaena?" Nakago asked, his frown not abating.

"She had to go meet with the cake people for some last-minute details. It was a cake-emergency, I'm told. A crisis of colors, or something," Taka explained. "But she'll be joining us for dinner."

"Nakago is just cranky because the seats were tighter than usual. He swears it's the seats that have changed, not his, ahem, assets," Miaka smiled and started for the automatic doors leading to the parking lot.

Taka muffled a laugh, and turned it into a violent sneeze at Nakago's glare. Nakago was a man of power, and slightly expanded or not, he was the type of man who expected things to work according to his wishes. Taka wouldn't be terribly surprised if they found him a roomier seat for the return flight.

"How were you able to take off so much time from your campaign? Elections are beginning soon, aren't they?"

"I've dropped out of this year's election. There are more important things than running for prime minister. Besides, after my supposed illness, people are beginning to mumble about my health. It's better to take some time off and come back stronger and more impressive than ever."

Knowing Nakago, that was just what he'd do. "Kaena is pretty excited to have you both here. Where are you staying? She didn't say."

"We've found a temporary sublet for the next three months. We certainly didn't want to impinge on your wedding plans, or time there after," said the woman.

"It's no imposition," he said, but secretly danced a little inside. Having Nakago and Miaka staying with them would certainly put a damper on their sex life. He knew Kaena well enough to know that she would not have sex with her parents under the same roof. He'd be lucky if they got to hold hands.

"You're getting married!" Miaka exclaimed. She smiled brightly, and he didn't detect any of her typical Miaka mask, so Taka smiled in return. Nakago, on the other hand, slipped his fingers around hers. "You don't need us underfoot. So tell me, what has been going on in your life lately? Aside from caterers and the like."

"Well, I've been applying to graduate programs in history. I had been thinking about it for a while, but seeing Kaena work on her doctorate made me feel a bit behind, so I thought I should continue my education. I have always thought it might be fun to get into archaeology or something along those lines. Investigative history, maybe?"

"Where have you applied?" Nakago asked, genuinely interested, it appeared.

"UC Berkeley, Stanford, University of Minnesota, University of Chicago, Boston College, and University of Indiana-Bloomington."

"Just a few!" Miaka cried as they approached the short term parking lot.

"I'm applying to doctoral programs, and they're really competitive. I've been out of the education game for a while, so I thought I'd spread my bets around a bit."

Truth be told, he doubted he'd get into any even if he applied to 20 different programs. Kaena had looked at his transcript thoughtfully, and said she thought he had a chance. His grades hadn't been perfect, but they'd been good, and he had gotten good letters, and of course having 10 years of teaching experience didn't hurt. He still felt far too old to be considering such a drastic career change.

"Where would you like to go?"

"Ideally, Chicago. It would be convenient for Kaena and I, since we already live here. Barring that, Stanford."

"Aim high," Miaka smiled as Nakago took her bags and loaded them into Taka's trunk. "Good thinking. You'll get in, I'm sure."

"Thanks."

They piled into the little car, and headed for his and Kaena's condo. The hour-long commute was silent and painful. Miaka dozed, or at least pretended to. Taka made strained attempts at conversation with his future father-in-law, who was sitting in the front seat, but his discouraging responses curtailed further conversation. Taka put on the news. There was an interview with a friend of a famous author who had recently died, and some discussion of the latest health care bill congress was pushing through, which served as a distraction, even if it wasn't all that interesting. The next piece was interrupted suddenly by an urgent news bulletin. Nakago reached over and turned up the volume.

"A deep sea earthquake about 200 miles from the Atlantic coastline between New York and Philadelphia has caused massive damage to coastal cities. The quake, which occurred at 5:45 Eastern was estimated at a magnitude 8.7. Residents of any coastline area are urged to take immediate shelter on higher ground, as the quake has spawned a tsunami, which could reach the cost in a matter of minutes. I repeat, residents of New York, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and New Jersey that live within 30 miles of a coastal area are urged to evacuate and move to higher ground."

The report detailed the scientific possibilities for a sudden, massive quake in an area that wasn't particularly close to the shore line, but Taka thought of his friends from New York, and hoped they were okay. Apparently, the quake itself had caused some serious damage to older buildings, and rolling blackouts were taking place all over the greater metro areas of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, and others. The death toll was high, since East Coast cities weren't nearly as prepared for earthquakes as places on the opposite coast that had them regularly, and unfortunately, they expected it to get worse before the day was over.

Taka was speechless as he continued to listen to the reports. When they began interviewing a young girl who had seen her parents' building collapse while she was standing not a block away, he turned it off and glanced at Nakago. Miaka was not even feigning sleep now.

"That's unbelievable," the woman murmured. "How terrible."

"What an unusual situation," Nakago said. "And worrisome."

"Unusual how?" Taka inquired. "I don't know a whole lot about plate tectonics and the like."

"Earthquakes are common in Japan because it's right on the Pacific Rim, where two plates meet up. Two plates come together in the Atlantic Ocean, but it's hundreds of miles from U.S. Territory. Quakes are relatively rare there. The newscaster reported that the quake originated in the ocean, but there are dozens of faults on Manhattan Island. Boston's foundation is composed of two-thirds sediment, and the old buildings in Philadelphia would not fare will if a quake of that magnitude originated inland."

"Is that likely?" Taka frowned worriedly.

"No, I suppose not. But it is very strange. I don't usually associate the U.S. With earthquakes, but they have them here too, from time to time," he mused.

Nakago clicked the radio back on, and they listened for the remainder of the drive.

...

Nakago hugged his daughter as she met them in the foyer of her condo. They would be staying one night with her and Taka, and then moving off to their sublet in the morning, mostly because it was after business hours. They would have gladly gotten a hotel for the night, but Kaena had insisted, and Nakago wasn't going to argue with his daughter. She was as beautiful as when he'd last seen her, and she was positively glowing. She took Taka's hand as they entered the elevator.

The old warrior was having serious trouble reconciling his daughter's happiness with his ambiguous feelings toward the man who had once killed him. He was, without a doubt, one of the most trustworthy men that Nakago had ever known. He doubted the man even knew the meaning of the word deceit, let alone how to do it, and if he gave his word that something would happen, that was what would happen. He knew that, not only because the man had saved his life a little more than a year before, and not just because they had fought on the same side against Tenkou's servants, but because they had been enemies, and he had seen how the man had fought for his friends and for Miaka, with determination backed by his word. He couldn't fail. That same determination made Nakago very nervous for his daughter. He wondered if she was enamored of him mostly because of his initial perseverance.

He was a solid man, a tolerant, kind-hearted, worldly man. Nakago was begrudged to admit that he had thought of Taka as a friend, or at least one of the rare people that Nakago would be sad to see hurt, and somewhere along the way, that concern had turned into something more. Maybe love, like a brother, or a son. But Kaena was an extraordinary young woman, and she deserved an extraordinary man. Nakago just wasn't sure Taka was extraordinary.

Taka brought them to L20, one of the finest restaurants in the city. Nakago tried to pay attention to the dinner conversation, but used jet lag as an excuse to bow out of the conversation and listen. It wasn't jet lag that was distracting him, though—he couldn't stop thinking about the disaster taking place on the East Coast. He was not, nor had he ever been, a man of great empathy, so humanitarian emotion was certainly not the culprit. Something was bothering about him. It seemed unusual. There had been a greater number of natural disasters in the previous months. Cities in South America had been completely flatted by earthquakes, wild-fires were tearing through the Western states, Japan was suffering from flooding and volcanic eruptions, and parts of Europe had been affected by dangerous weather, bug infestations, and other issues. Nakago was not a superstitious man, but he was bothered by this. He was thankful, at least, that he was here with his wife and daughter, in a place that seemed to be somewhat of a haven. Logically, not so true, since Chicago suffered from tornadoes like any other midwestern city, and was at risk for flooding, should the river ever get so high, but it felt safe here. He was willing to rely on his intuition on the matter.

The rest of the evening flew by, and soon they were tucking themselves into Kaena's large bed, while she and Taka set up an air mattress on the living room floor.

"What's wrong with you tonight? That's not your jet-lag face," Miaka pointed out, pulling off her dress and folding it neatly into her suitcase. She turned to him in her bra and half-slip. It was a credit to his level of distraction that he didn't ravish her.

"Just a strange feeling."

"Me too," Miaka said unexpectedly. She brushed out her russet hair with her fingers and dropped her slip, pulling a practical cotton nightgown out of her suitcase. "It's strange, isn't it? The disaster on the coast. It feels strange."

"An unnatural natural disaster," Nakago murmured.

"Yes, exactly. You always had a way of pinpointing what I was feeling. It feels out of season, somehow."

"There's nothing we can do. It doesn't concern us." At the pointed look she gave him, he amended. "It doesn't concern us anymore than it concerns anybody else."

"And yet, it feels like it does."

Silently, Nakago nodded. Miaka tossed her bra into the suitcase and pulled on her nightie, climbing into bed. Nakago slid in beside her. He was jet lagged, albeit not as much as he had led his daughter and her fiancé to believe, but mostly he was just inexplicably troubled. He didn't like the sour taste he had in his mouth. His arms tightened around his wife. Her soft, slim body against his was reassuring. Slowly, her breathing became deep and rhythmic. It took another hour for sleep to find him.

...

Sam woke up panting and gasping for breath. He groped around to familiarize himself with an environment that his eyes, which were not with his body at the moment, could not see. He felt a door handle, a seat belt, a soft thigh. His body arched. Terror, pain, destruction. He saw a couple crushed to death as a building collapsed. He saw water flooding the streets, sweeping away people, pets, and cars. He saw fires, as the power plants caught fire from the transformers trying to power a disaster area sparked and blew. Each face he saw was written in his nightmares; a little girl or boy, crushed against a brick wall; a parent screaming for a child; a husband calling for his wife. He tried to force his eyes to open, to see what he knew in his mind was in front of him, but the images were rapid and confusing, yet painfully clear in his mind's eye. He heard himself screaming in terror, but could do nothing to stop it. It seemed like an eternity before he convulsed again, eyes snapping open. He wept in horror, and when he stopped, he saw the girl looking at him like he had lost his mind.

In a way, he had lost his mind. It had been elsewhere, in New York, in Boston, where people were dying, where homes were destroyed. He'd had the visions for as long as he could remember, and they had always been bad enough to prevent him from making many friends, or participating in activities that required him to be out for multiple hours. They had passed it off as a seizure disorder at his parochial school, but his frequent fits had kept him from holding a steady job. His high school education had ended a year early, when he had his most memorable fit in the middle of his junior English class and refused to return. He had taken his GED and tried some courses at the local community college, but his visions disabled him. If he wasn't having them, he was obsessing over them; planning possible futures, planning what he would do if he encountered situations like the ones he saw. He took a deep shuddering breath and forced his attention back to the young woman who had pulled over to the shoulder and was staring at him with her pale hands clutched tightly on the steering wheel.

"What was that?" she asked meekly.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said softly. "Sorry, I think I grabbed you. I couldn't control it. When it happens, I don't really have control of my body."

"You grabbed my thigh," she said softly, rubbing the spot unconsciously.

"Sorry," he mumbled. She was silent again as she pulled back onto the freeway. They were about a mile way from the main drag of Topeka, based on what his last driver had told him.

"Sorry to pry. My mom's a nurse. It looked like . . . some kind of seizure, with hallucination. Epilepsy, maybe? Were you ever, um, diagnosed with anything?"

He took a deep breath to prevent his voice from shaking. His hands were still trembling. "I saw lots of doctors as a kid. They labeled me with epilepsy, but the medicines only made it worse. They told me I was schizophrenic. I don't hear voices. They don't tell me to do things. They told me I was using hallucinogenic drugs when I got older. That was my favorite. As if I need to add to it. The latest one was that I was simply attention seeking. That one went over best with my dad, and he beat the shit out of me for it. Needless to say, it didn't stop."

"You sound like you have a theory on it," she prompted delicately, glancing over at him.

"Get off at the next exit, Wanamaker," he said offhand. "I know what I think they are. People think I'm even crazier when I tell them the theory."

She glanced at him, patiently waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she gave up and hunched her shoulders down again, shrinking in on herself like some sad balloon losing all its helium. He could tell it had taken everything she had to ask him such personal questions.

"They're visions," he said at last. "That one was . . . I don't know what it was. Massive destruction on the coast. Flooding, fires, thousands of people dying. They're absolutely beyond my control."

"Like visions from God?" she asked in a quiet voice. She didn't seem to be writing him off as a lunatic, which was encouraging.

"If they're from God, he can go fuck himself," he frowned.

Rowan looked scandalized at this pronouncement. "Do you, you know, believe in God? Maybe they're from the other one . . ."

"Well, they're torturous enough to be from Satan, if that's what you mean. I don't know what the hell I believe. I was raised Presbyterian. Visions happened to prophets, not upper middle class kids."

"For what it's worth, it didn't look like you were faking it, whatever it was. It obviously . . ." she paused to glance over her shoulder and change lanes. "It obviously causes a lot of distress. You were crying."

He flushed. "That was just from relief that it was over." Which was absolutely not true, but he didn't need to tell her that. His father would say he was queer for crying. Now there was an old wound he didn't fancy exposing again.

Rowan's little car made it to the auto center at the mall, and she took the keys when she went inside to inquire about fixing it. She returned a few minutes later. It was almost five now. "They won't be able to get to it tonight, but probably first thing in the morning. I guess we should get a hotel."

She went to the trunk and pulled out a gym bag. He stepped out, and watched her as she grabbed a few things and shoved them in the bag. She disappeared inside to hand off her keys and set everything up and returned a few minutes later. They stared at each other. She was much shorter than him, and looked up at him while casting her gaze down, which was awkward.

"I guess I'll go find somewhere to crash. Thanks for the ride."

"Do you, um . . . want to get something to eat?"

His mouth watered at the suggestion, but he hesitated. "I don't have any money."

"It's okay, it's on me. What do you want?"

"You don't have to do that. I'll probably hunt down a church. They always feed you when you crash at a church. Especially Lutherans."

"My parents gave me this credit card for emergencies. This is an emergency. Let me at least feed you in thanks for changing my tire. I don't know what I would have done."

Reluctantly he agreed, and they started walking toward one of the many restaurants on this road. She paused, glancing at a Walmart store across the street. "Do you think, maybe we should get you some new clothes first?"

He was caught between anger and embarrassment, and stopped as well. "I don't need your charity. You don't have to feel sorry for me."

"I," she looked downcast, and he realized that this was a girl who was fundamentally incapable of ingenuous pity. She felt for him because she could see he was embarrassed by his ratty, stinky clothes. "I'm sorry, you're right."

"No, I'm sorry," he shook his head. "I can't pay for them, though. All I have is what I'm carrying, and that's approximately four dollars."

Rowan smiled and grabbed his arm with a very dainty grip, leading him across the street and into the super center. Twenty minutes later, and she had purchased him three pairs of jeans, a pair of nice khaki pants, and several brand new tee shirts and two button downs. After they had checked out, she realized he didn't have a belt, socks, underwear, or respectable shoes, so they went back for a second round. Considering how cheap the clothes were, they were remarkably tasteful. With embarrassment, he stood with her as she swiped her parents' credit card again. A few minutes in the men's bathroom produced him relatively respectable in the new jeans and one of the t-shirts she had purchased for him.

"You really didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

"If I were down on my luck, I would want somebody who had the means to do the right thing, too," she said firmly. Morals seemed to be an area where she was not shy. The shoes were amazingly comfortable. His old cast-off tennis shoes, which were now at the bottom of the men's room garbage bin, had been worn down to the rubber soles. The rest of the clothes hadn't fared much better, and they, too, had been discarded, except his army jacket, which he had folded across his forearm.

"Thank you."

"Where do you want to eat? There's a barbecue place over there."

He really didn't want to exploit her generosity. "Somewhere cheap."

"She looked at her phone, which now had reception and a very nice list of local restaurants. Um, there's a Chipotle up the road a little, if you don't mind hoofing it," she said.

"Fine by me. I walked across half of Colorado."

"You're kidding. Where are you from, anyway?"

"My family is from Idaho. I've been squatting in towns on the West side of the rockies for the last three years, and spent the last year traveling across Colorado and Kansas."

"It took you that long?"

"Well, no, I made quite a few detours along the way. The pedestrian route is long, but not quite that long." He briefly explained about how the visions sometimes led him to people with time enough to prevent disasters or help them, so he had spent a lot of time rescuing old ladies from burning buildings, or at least from buildings that would be on fire eventually. He had even been in the newspaper in some of the towns where he'd stopped.

"That's pretty amazing," she looked at him with something between awe and disbelief.

He shrugged. They walked on in silence, and Sam was pleased to learn about the wonderful world of Chipotle. He ordered a burrito, and was amazed when he couldn't finish it. Rowan picked self-consciously at hers.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, slurping the dregs of his soda.

Strangely, she flushed at this. She took a few bites, and then covered the rest up, folding her hands in her lap. She glanced nervously at his face, examining him carefully. "You don't seem like a drifter or serial killer or anything. You talk like everybody I know, though you have a bit of an accent. You have all your teeth, and they're, uh, really nice."

"This is three years of braces and headgear," he flashed his white grin, laughing a little. "My parents spent a fortune on my teeth. I figured it'd be a little ungrateful to let them rot out of my head just to give off the right maniac vagabond vibe."

She covered her teeth self-consciously when she smiled. He had seen them already. They weren't movie-star fake, but they were large and clean and mostly straight. He thought she was an adorable woman, actually. She seemed a lot younger than she probably was, and that made her seem somewhat charmingly innocent.

Their Walmart trip and dinner had taken them through most of the evening, and he supposed she was thinking ahead to her hotel room. "Do you think you could look up local churches on that phone of yours?"

"Why?"

"I have to sleep somewhere," he shrugged. "They usually kick you out of the parks if you try to sleep on a bench. It is a nice night, though."

"You're not sleeping outside!" she looked horrified by this. "Why don't I just rent you a hotel room? I was just going to go to the Super 8 or something."

"Absolutely not. That's ridiculous. You've already been more than generous."

"Well," she looked thoughtful. "Um, you're really not a rapist or anything, right?"

"Not a bit," he said. He was almost ashamed to admit how inexperienced he was. He was a lot of things, but rapist was not one of them.

"Well. I suppose maybe you could stay with me. I mean, obviously you will have to sleep on the floor or the other bed if it's a room with two beds, but I've been with you all afternoon, and it seems like if you were going to attack me, you probably would have done it hours ago, when we were in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't know your name and what you look like."

"That's very-" he wanted to accept her offer so badly. To sleep in a real bed, with real covers that had been washed, with a free continental breakfast, and TV. It was a dream. But it was so improper. "Are you sure you're comfortable with that? It's really all right, I don't mind finding something on my own."

She nodded, and it was settled. They walked another few blocks to the Super 8, and she tried to check in. They wouldn't take the credit card with her parents' names on it, and they said she had to be 21 to check in, which she was not. Dismayed, she turned to him."

"Go to an ATM and get a cash advance, and I'll pay," he advised.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-four."

"Really? You seem older."

This plan was enacted quickly, and they were soon settled in a comfortable room with two double beds, a coffee machine, and, yes, cable TV. The first thing he did was take a shower. When he emerged in the jeans and t-shirt with wet blonde hair, she cursed. "I should have gotten you pajamas."

He laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through his wet hair. She watched him comb out his tangled hair this way for a minute, and then went to her bag and produced a small purple comb. He combed his hair and then flopped back. "I can't believe I'm in a hotel room. The last time I was in a hotel room was . . . damn, probably ten years ago."

"Oh?" she prompted, pulling out a bag of shower supplies and a pair of pajamas.

"My parents didn't like to take me on trips because of my condition, or whatever you want to call it. But they managed to pull together a trip to Las Vegas, which was really a lot more fun for them than it was for me, since I was obviously too young to gamble or drink or visit prostitutes," he laughed a little at this. Bad choice of words, but she laughed too, so he didn't feel so awkward about it. "I spent most of the trip in the hotel room playing with the little video game console they provide, except I didn't realize that it charged per game. While my parents were downstairs gambling, I was racking up a $200 video game bill. I think I also ordered room service at one point. They ended up spending all their winnings on my bill. I was grounded for about a month after that. The funny thing is that those games sucked."

Rowan giggled at this, and he warmed. He turned to his stomach and looked at her.

"Isn't that so strangely normal for somebody like me? Such an utterly usual memory. I imagine a lot of runaways have similar memories, but they don't talk about them. It probably reminds them of the bad times, too."

"When did you run away?"

"I was seventeen."

"Your father, he beat you?" she asked carefully.

"Not regularly. Just when he would get pissed off at me for having one of my little fits. He thought I was faking it, and assumed that the best way to stop it was to give me negative feedback. Great idea, except I wasn't faking, so it obviously didn't work. He'd beat me, and of course it would happen again, that day or the next day, and he'd just give up for a while. I was bigger than him by the time I was seventeen, but couldn't take him badgering me. Didn't have a lot of reasons to stay at school either, and I . . ."

"Yes?" she was on the edge of her seat, shower caddy all but forgotten.

"I had a vision that I should go to Colorado, so I made my way there. I did odd jobs, and hitched, and sometimes I sang for money on the street corners. I was pretty good, if somebody was around to play the guitar for me. But mostly I just went from place to place where ever the visions led, and then I had a vision that I should go to Chicago. Or I should say visions. I've been having it for a while."

"What is your vision about?"

"It sounds crazy."

"You're talking to a born and bred Christian school girl. We believe in that crap in my religion, you know. Maybe we're wary of impostors, but we do believe such things exist."

He took a breath. He had never actually tried to put it into words, to really describe what he saw. It was always just images, that sort of hung together in his head, but made less sense outside of it. He thought of a better way, and pulled out the notebook he kept with him at all times that contained his dreams and visions. He turned to the one he'd had a year and three months before in the little cabin in Colorado, the one where he had seen the new woman for the first time, and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes scanned his sloppy, sleepy handwriting, and then she read it again more slowly. It described the destruction, the disasters that the woman he thought of as the Destroyer brought, and then it described the new woman he'd seen, with her tall, lithe frame, and long, golden-blonde hair, the woman he had dubbed the Savior.

"Do you know what it means?" she asked finally, looking up. He took the notebook back from her, and folded his hands in his lap, tapping his finger rhythmically on his new shoe.

"There is one woman who is trying to destroy the world, and another woman who has the potential to stop her."

"Destroy the world how?"

"I don't know. By magic. I don't know why. That's why I need to get to Chicago. The blonde one, the Savior, she's there. I know she's there, and I'm going to find her."

The woman looked at him carefully for a minute, but said nothing. She had that 'you're crazy, but I'm too polite to say it' look on her face. He knew that look. She excused herself to take a shower. Sam turned on the TV and flipped stations until he came across a news report. He stared, dumbstruck. He had had visions that had come true many times, but never like this. He watched numbly as the newscaster reported the death tolls reaching six thousand so far, with more expected over the night. Half the eastern seaboard had been declared a disaster area. He covered his face with his hands and wept for a long time.

"Sam?" he heard soft footsteps. "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, shamefully wiping his tears. He nodded to the TV.

"Is this . . . what you saw earlier?" she whispered, a haunted look overcoming her features. She hadn't really believed him before, but he had had that vision long before either of them could have known about this disaster. He saw the horror and amazement on her face. She touched his shoulder gently. "There's nothing you could have done."

"I know, but this is the beginning. It's starting. The Destroyer has come."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Nakago allowed himself to be chauffeured by his almost-son-in-law. Kaena and Miaka were sitting in the back seat together, leaving him with Taka. Nakago hadn't been able to shake the weird feeling he'd gotten two nights ago when they first heard the news of the disaster on the coast. It was being called the worst disaster on U.S. soil since Hurricane Katrina. Relief efforts were pouring in, but it wasn't enough. The death toll was up to ten thousand, now. Nakago had a feeling that this was not the end of their troubles.

But despite his overall unease, he had been cajoled by his persuasive daughter to join them for their weekly training sessions. She had mentioned some of her friends off-hand, and assumed that these were some of Taka's martial arts buddies, or the like. When they entered the rented gymnasium and Nakago felt the raw power of these various young people, he was stunned. These weren't ordinary humans training to stay in shape—these were powerful magicians and sorcerers exploring and practicing their impressive powers. The first to come over and say hello were a pair of twins named Kajri and Kaberi. Kajri was, it seemed, a wind mage, and Kaberi controlled water, though that was likely not the extent of their powers.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gi!" Kajri, who presently had the traditional Indian dot painted between her beautifully arching brows, bowed formally. Kaberi took a more modern tack and shook their hands, first Miaka's, then his. They were identically lovely, with deep brown eyes, dusky brown skin, and full, rosy lips.

"It's so exciting to finally meet you," Kajri said.

"Kaena, you look creepily like your handsome father!" Kaberi exclaimed, then turned a pleasant rose color. Kaena did much more resemble him than her mother, though Nakago thought they were being generous—he looked frightfully old these days.

"I'm not sure how to take that," she laughed a little, and dragged two men over. The first man, a tall, scrawny fellow with green eyes and dull brown hair, managed a bow and spoke Japanese to introduce himself. Miaka was thrilled by this, and immediately burst into rapid Japanese. The man looked terrified.

"I'm sorry, I only speak a little," he laughed nervously. He clearly had some impressive power, but Nakago could neither identify nor describe it. It was almost anti-power.

"Oh, that's all right," Miaka reverted to English.

The other man looked a bit older, with green eyes a shade darker than Andy's, and thick, black hair. He was shorter than the other man, a little under six feet, with a lean build. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses. "How do you do? It's nice to meet you both. I'm Luke Jamison."

"Dr. Jamison?" Miaka asked curiously. "One of Kaena's professors?"

He nodded. "One in the same."

Miaka made small talk for a while, and Nakago sized these warriors up. The black-haired man had identified himself as a professor, so he was clearly an educated man, but he seemed refined beyond that, as if he had absolute control of himself, and to some extent, the room. Nakago immediately liked him. Finally, the last of their group arrived. The latecomer was a tall, heavily built man of about thirty-five. He looked like a stereotype and a half. His dark hair was slicked back from his face, and his ham hands had wiry little hairs on the knuckles. When he opened his mouth, Nakago almost laughed.

"Eh! Nice to meet you!" he said, holding out his beefy hand and shaking firmly. He shook Miaka's hand more daintily, though no less enthusiastically. Nakago couldn't identify anything about the man's power. "I'm Vinny."

"So what do you all usually do here?" Miaka asked curiously.

"Well, we start out by doing some basic chi exercises, and then we try to work on new techniques we've been experimenting with, and then we spar."

Nakago looked around at the little assemblage. Kaena was clearly the priestess or whatever equivalent this new type of warrior was. Taka was clearly her man in charge—general, executor, and chief bodyguard. With Kajri and Kaberi, that made three. Luke, Andy, and Vinny were six. So where was the seventh warrior? Servants of gods and demons always came in sevens, plus the priestess.

"Are you sitting in?" Vinny asked Miaka.

"We'll be doing more than sitting," Nakago smirked, and began to unbutton his crisp white shirt.

The others took what he assumed were customary places. Kaena and Taka took up the teacher position. Miaka moved to sit down, but Nakago grabbed her arm and gently hauled her over.

"Honey, I'm really not dressed for this," she twisted her arm away, batting her large, hazel eyes at him. "And besides, I'm tired."

"It's good for you," he smirked. "It's good practice for other things that require endurance."

Miaka flushed brightly. Taka coughed awkwardly, but the others didn't seem to catch it, or if they did, they made no mention. Kaena might have, for a faintly horrified expression flitted across her features, but it was gone so quickly he wasn't sure he'd seen it at all. Silently, his wife took up a spot in the front row beside him.

The first exercises were basic, and absolutely no problem for him. He had worked hard the last year to get back into fighting trim, and although he seemed to have permanently thickened from his former chiseled glory, there was still a firm later of muscle beneath the added softness. It felt good to flex his chi and let it flow in familiar katas from the tips of his fingers all the way to his toes. These were, in fact, katas that he had taught Kaena when she was a small child, just after the awful incident in which she had been kidnapped and nearly killed. He had been determined to never leave her unprotected again, even if she was alone. He was glad to see she still used them.

Taka took over the next form, and this one was quicker, with long, powerful strokes of the arms, and wide, low movements. He could feel the power flooding the room. They were good teachers. He imagined they had not been this developed when they had started these get-togethers. Three more forms brought them to the end of their warm-up, and they began practicing strikes and blocks combined with energy. Nakago was wary of standing in front of these untrained pups, but nobody accidentally shot him or his wife in the back. Ten minutes of these exercises hadn't even made Nakago sweat, though Miaka was certainly panting. He reminded himself that she had never been trained like he had, and hadn't kept up on her skills the last few years.

When they split into pairs to spar, Miaka bowed out under the pretense that there was an odd number, and she wanted to watch from a safe distance. Nakago politely refrained from comment, and he was paired up against the man named Vinny. Kajri and Kaena had paired, Kaberi and Luke were facing off, and Taka faced Andy.

"I want you to start with the strikes and blocks we practiced, and then any special moves you've been working on—carefully!" Taka called.

"Why'd I have to be paired with the old guy?" Vinny mumbled to himself.

Nakago smirked. "Perhaps I will surprise you."

He let the younger man have the liberty of attacking first. Bored, Nakago swatted his fist away easily. A series of clumsy punches and kicks, none of which landed successfully, followed. The man panted slightly, and glared. For such a large man, he wasn't very strong. He tried another strike to Nakago's face, which he allowed to land. When an attacker struck, there was always a moment of lag that left the person undefended. Allowing oneself to take a punch was about the oldest trick in the book, but Vinny fell for it. Nakago landed two solid punches to his gut and a kick to his side. Vinny staggered and fell.

"Ow."

"You all right?" Taka hauled his friend up.

"I hate these strikes. You know I suck at them. Can I do my own magic now?"

"Go for it," Taka patted his back, pushing the man back into Nakago's vicinity. "But be careful. I don't want you to incinerate my father-in-law before we even get married, okay?"

The old warrior raised a brow at this, but said nothing. Vinny coughed and straightened. "It's on now," he grinned. Nakago raised his chi around him to shield, and the man stupidly aimed a punch at him again. Did he not realize the previous hit had only landed because Nakago had allowed it to land? Foolish boy. He took the hit, and as he moved to retaliate, he felt an odd burning on his arms. He glanced down at his arms and discovered that the normally pale skin was turning red and blistering. He swore and shifted his shield around to the front to counter, but found that his shield was useless. Nakago cursed again and charged the man, only to find that his shoes were melded to the floor. His arms felt like they were on fire, and his face was starting to itch as well.

"Vinny!" Kaena's voice, or something like Kaena's voice, snapped all their attention to her. The burning and itching stopped immediately. Nakago slid to his knees awkwardly, looking at his forearms, which were painfully singed.

"Sorry! Sorry," he turned toward Nakago and pulled him to his feet, helping him step out of his shoes. "I didn't expect that to happen, and then once I started I couldn't really stop."

"Papa!" Kaena dashed over, sounding like herself now. "Vinny, you idiot!"

Miaka rushed over and frowned as she examined the reddened, blistered skin. It was agonizing to touch, so of course Miaka slapped her cold hands right onto it. He groaned in pain and glared at her. "Why don't you throw salt on it while you're at it?"

She grinned and took him by the shoulder, leading him to the bench where she'd been sitting. Taka, Kaena, and Vinny crowded around. "Shit, Vinny," Taka muttered.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry."

"It's just a first degree burn," he started to wave his hand dismissively, then thought better of it. "I've experienced worse. What I would like to know is what exactly you did."

"Um, well, you were shielding your body from me and my chi so I couldn't hit you, and I suck at strikes anyway, and I've been working on manipulating air molecules. I can manipulate matter, y'see. I started making the air around your shield heat up, and since you weren't trying to shield against the air itself, it was easy to make it hot enough around your arms and legs to burn you."

Nakago looked down at his dockers and noticed they were singed for the first time. He frowned, and gingerly touched his face. It felt seared as if he had a sunburn, but it hadn't blistered like his arms and hands.

"It's okay, it's mostly his pride that's hurt," Miaka's tone was distinctly maternal, as if comforting a child that had just accidentally stepped on somebody's foot. "I'll run down to the pharmacy to get some Lidacaine and bandages for that."

"Sorry," Vinny muttered again, and was led back to the sparring mats by Taka. Kaena sat down next to him, gently taking his hands and examining the burns.

"You should have tapped out sooner," she chided him. "You're so stubborn."

"This from the girl who refused to go to school until she had figured out how to read all the words in the Tokyo Shimbun in first grade!"

"That was different. This was just stupid masculine bravado," she frowned at him, but it was mostly full of exasperation. She touched his well-done skin and he hissed, pulling away. "Papa," her voice held warning.

She closed her eyes, and suddenly Nakago felt very warm. Not in a burning sort of way, but as if his arms and face and hands had been wrapped in a warm, tropical breeze. Her ice blue eyes met his as the comforting warmth faded, and Nakago looked down to see that he was completely healed.

"You can heal?"

"Not normally. This was a special circumstance."

"Your warriors are strong."

"Not strong like you," she said.

"No, an entirely different strength. They're impressive. You've taught them a lot."

"Taka helped," she shrugged a slim shoulder. "We've been training hard these last few months, really honing our specific gifts and learning to do what we do best. It feels like we're almost out of time . . ."

"I've felt it too," he looked over her shoulder to where Taka was trying in vain to teach Vinny to successfully punch him.

"I'm scared, papa."

A variety of responses faded into silence. He couldn't reassure her that things would be fine. He didn't know they would be. He certainly couldn't protect her from it. This wasn't a battle that he could win, he knew. He could help, but the winning would come down to her and her warriors. "Me too."

"I can't help but wondering why me. I've felt it, and Taka has felt it, and now you say you've felt it. Doesn't it feel like this is about me, somehow? Like maybe I'm bringing it down on all of us? I don't want to draw disaster to my friends. I can't lose them," she gripped his hands more tightly now. He knew what it felt like to fear that kind of loss. And yet he knew it wasn't his daughter that was causing this, though she was important. He knew why. He had learned how special she was during that last adventure, but he had never told her. The weight of it was too much for a child to bear.

"Did I ever tell you the legend of Seiran?" he looked into her eyes that were, like his, the exact blue of the Seiran jewel.

She shook her head.

"You know that I was born to a tribe called the Hin, in my past life. I think Taka told you that."

He watched her face carefully. He had never truly spoken of that life to her before. She looked rapt at attention. "My people were very spiritual, and there was a legend that if two lovers who were meant to be together entered the Blue Lake near our home lands together, a magical jewel would appear.

"That was a minor legend, a gift from Seiryuu for lovers who were truly in love. However, there is another, older legend that says that when two people are truly destined for each other—not when they feel the petty rush of hormones or even if they love each other—but when the Creator of all deigned for two people to come together, and those people found each other, a child born of them would be special. Of course, it's extremely rare, because the chances of two people being of opposite genders, being born in the same generation, or even just finding each other across thousands of miles or dimensions are astronomically small. Taiitsukun was one such child, and Kaena, so are you. Your mother and I were destined for each other, but of course, circumstances being what they were, it was not likely that we would ever come together. We were bitter enemies, dimensions apart. We learned that Taka was even thrown to your mother to distract her, to prevent you, but here you are."

"Special how?" she asked quietly.

"A child outside of fate," he said softly. "A child with uncanny powers, a child that is a deep well of magic, one with a destiny far greater than any other human being alive. You are an open vessel: a receptacle for good, or evil."

Kaena stared at him for a long while, not speaking. He could tell that something of it answered questions that she had never even thought to ask, but it was also terrifying. "Tenkou was a child like that, too, wasn't he?"

Nakago nodded.

"That's why he took me, when I was a child. He wanted to fill me up, to take me over."

Again, he confirmed this.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He shook his head. "It seemed like it was a lot to handle. I thought maybe if you didn't need to know, it would be easier not to. I was trying to protect you."

"You are a fool," she said coldly, but there was fear in her eyes, and he knew that he had protected her rightly. Her strange powers made sense to her now, he knew. Her strange aura, and bottomless spirit, and the strands of fate she manipulated, they made sense. And yet, wouldn't anybody be terrified to learn that they had been destined before they were born to some purpose? Nakago found it troubling enough to know that he had been destined to find Miaka and have this strange girl-child. But having the responsibility of some unknown task was horrifying. He was glad it wasn't him, but would have gladly taken the cup from her, if he could have.

"So what's coming, it's my destiny. Not it for me, but me for it," she said quietly, regaining control.

"I can't say for sure. I have no way of knowing that. I know you are destined for some great thing, and some great thing is coming, but I can only conjecture. That type of knowledge is certainly not my gift or realm of expertise."

"Kajri and Kaberi have felt it too."

He nodded. Miaka returned a moment later, holding a bag from the pharmacy down the street. When she looked at his healed skin, she shook her head and sighed. "I should have known. I always miss the good stuff."

Kaena returned to the group and training continued. Nakago watched her. He shouldn't have kept these secrets, both about his past and hers, for so long, but what else could he have done? Her knowing wouldn't have changed anything, and the burden would have crushed her. Now, however, she had strong friends to support her. Perhaps the brunt of destiny was on her shoulders, but if they could secure her, maybe they could all stand together.

...

Rowan tossed and turned, and finally sat up. She couldn't sleep anymore. Having a strange man talking in his sleep in the next bed really wasn't helping, but also the coffee she had gulped by the gallon wasn't doing much for her either. It was almost light outside, and they would likely be able to pick up the car not too long after seven. She grabbed her gym bag and went to the bathroom to change. She glimpsed her doughy torso in the bathroom mirror and looked away immediately, pulling her shirt over her head.

Grant's words run through her head. "You're a fat, ugly bitch, and you'll never be good for anything." She sat down hard on the toilet, and cried to herself. She had given every part of herself to him, and he had been so sweet at the beginning. But then he had become paranoid, demanding she answer her phone at all times, even in class, and accusing her of sleeping with other men, of not sleeping with him because she was sleeping with other men, even though she swore she was a virgin! Then he had said that if she really loved him, she would do it, and she had, even though she hadn't wanted to. Reluctantly, she had all but moved in with him. Things had only gotten worse from there.

She would have loved to pretend that she was strong, like those girls in movies who find the strength to leave their abusive boyfriends, but she hadn't even had the courage for that. He had dumped her, after she had decided not to renew the lease at her old apartment, leaving her without a place to stay, and believing that he had been the best she could do. She knew he was a manipulative bastard, and she knew she could do better, in her head. But he had said it enough, had said, "It's a good thing I like fat chicks, or I'd never stay with you!" or "God, you're so stupid." enough times that her heart couldn't believe he hadn't been right, even if her head knew it. Their last blow-up had been two weeks ago. She had stayed with a friend, one of the few she had left, for a few days, but eventually she had been unable to find an apartment and had decided to spend the remainder of the summer at home.

She felt dirty, and unimportant. If such a loser could reject her, what did that say about her prospects? She desperately wanted to be liked, to be loved. She was a nice person! She had gotten good grades, before Grant had forced her to spend all her free time with him. She used to think she was pretty, or at least cute. But even Grant, even a man who could barely pass a class, who claimed to be a strong Christian but hated everybody that was different from him, even a man like that didn't want her. She didn't understand how she could have such a low opinion of him, yet hold his opinion of her in such high esteem, but she did. She sobbed quietly into a towel.

She turned her thoughts to the strange man she had picked up off the side of the road. She had been terrified of him when he'd first walked up to her car. She pretty much assumed anybody hitch hiking was out on their own with good reason, which she knew was a bad prejudice, but she couldn't help it. She had also been taught to be wary of strange men. After her experience with Grant, she was doubly shy, not only of being abused by them, but of being judged by them. But the things he had told her were all so understandable. He had been abused, too, it seemed, but unlike her, he had had enough and left. She envied him for the courage it must have taken. He was kind and grateful and undemanding. He slept soundly, even if his voice babbled on and on about the Destroyer and the Savior and all the people that would die. She wasn't afraid of him, exactly, but she was still wary. After all, Grant had seemed sweet and helpful and undemanding at first, too.

She gasped when she heard a gentle knock on the door. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting on the toilet with her thoughts, but it had been long enough for him to wake up, and maybe even hear her soft sobs. "I'll be out in a minute," she said, and flushed the toilet, and splashed her face with cold water to reduce the puffiness of her eyes. She dropped her pajama bottom and slipped into her favorite jeans, tossed it all back in the gym bag, and opened the door.

Sam yawned, and smiled at her behind his hand. "G'morning," he said.

"Morning," she replied softly, ducking around him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Um, sure," she lied. "You?"

"Like a baby. I didn't remember a single dream, for once!"

"That's good," she said, carrying her bag over to her bed and repacking it. "Do you want to go get some breakfast downstairs?"

"Definitely. Just let me go to the bathroom and wash my face," he said, closing the door, though not latching it all the way. She could hear him urinating for about five minutes, and laughed to herself. What a bladder! He washed his face, and then scratched his stubbled chin as he returned to his army jacket, pulling out a straight edge razor that didn't look terribly sharp and a toothbrush.

"Um," she said, digging back into her bag. She pulled out an unopened razor, which was pink, and handed it to him. He quirked a brow, but took it without question, and emerged a few minutes later looking fresh as a daisy. She allowed herself to study his face for a moment. He was quite a handsome man. He had the kind of pleasant, open face that she associated with choir boys. His blue eyes were lovely, even if they did have a slightly haunted look about them, and his beautiful, straight teeth glimmered. He had a dimple in his chin, and the proud, high cheekbones of one with a bit of Native American blood, though his blonde hair suggested his origins were likely European.

"Ready?" he asked after he'd gathered up his things.

She nodded, and shouldered her bag, and they made their way downstairs.

Because of a mix up at the auto center, it was almost two before they got on the road again. The sun was directly in Rowan's eyes, and she cursed herself for losing her sunglasses. The man was sitting quietly beside her, watching the Kansas farms and fields go rolling past. His good looking, easy charm was unnerving her rather a lot more than she wanted to admit. She had always been awkward around good looking men, but this man was somehow different. She had thought of the weird seizure/fit/vision she'd witnessed yesterday quite a lot. It really had seemed pretty convincing. It was possible it was just an extremely vivid hallucination, but he'd had that vision about destruction on the coast, and then not two hours later, they had seen the same thing on the news.

If this was real, she wondered if she should even get involved with him. He might be headed right into disaster. But last night when she'd been praying about him, she had gotten the distinct impression that their meeting had been ordained, and that she should take him not just to Indianapolis, which was where she first intended to take him, but all the way to Chicago. She had driven there once before with her parents, and it wasn't a bad drive. She knew of several ways to get there, but what on earth would she tell her parents? She had said she was coming home, and she somehow doubted they would take the news of her picking up a random drifter very well. Still, she knew this feeling. It was familiar, and it was a feeling she had vehemently ignored when it came to Grant, and that was a mistake she didn't want to make twice.

"So, did I talk in my sleep all night?" Sam asked suddenly.

"What? Oh. Yeah, most of it," she answered.

"Did I keep you up? I'm sorry."

"No, the eighteen gallons of coffee I drank did that all on its own," she shook her head.

"Ah," he said, and looked out the window again. "So you're going to be a junior at Colorado Christian College, eh? What are you studying?"

"Bible," she flushed. "I'm not some Bible-wielding whackjob, though."

"I know the type. I haven't confused you for them, trust me," he smiled, showing those beautiful teeth again. She looked determinedly at the road. "So do you have a boyfriend?"

She stiffened. "No."

"I've never had a girlfriend," he admitted, still staring out the window. "Not for lack of trying, I assure you. For some reason, girls don't ever seem to be impressed by my refrigerator box. I try to tell them it's cozy, but they don't believe me."

"Not even in high school?" she questioned, shocked that this handsome man had never had a girlfriend. "I find that hard to believe."

"Ha, thanks, but yep, even in high school. There were crushes, but I guess guys who fall into a heap while convulsing and screaming aren't really considered datable. Go figure. Have you had a boyfriend before?"

"A few . . ." she said quietly. "Mostly jerks and idiots, and worse."

He groped for a new topic, clearly sensing this one was making her uncomfortable. She threw him a bone. "I'm not a very social person. I usually prefer to be by myself. I love to read."

"Who are your favorite authors?" he pounced on this invitation like a starving man on a steak dinner.

"Wilde, Poe, C.S. Lewis, Anne Rice."

"Anne Rice?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"What? Sometimes a girl just likes to think about pretty vampires!"

"I don't find vampires all that appealing, personally. I mean, they're totally sexualized by nature, even though for all intents and purposes they don't have sex. Instead, it equates sucking blood to sex, which isn't the least bit sexy to me. Call me old fashioned."

She laughed, and it felt good. "It could be worse. I could read other stupid vampire books that shall remain nameless."

"This is very true," he agreed. "I'm more of a fantasy buff myself, though I like sci-fi. Tolkien is my absolute favorite. I loved the Simarillion. I also love Jules Verne, and Van Vogt."

"Oh, Journey to the Center of the Earth is my favorite book from childhood," she sighed dreamily, recalling those days spent in quiet classroom reading time. "Do you read a lot?"

"Not so much these days. I do when I can. Sometimes I hang out in public libraries and read there, or pick paperbacks out of the trash in order to have something to stave off boredom. I've read more skeezy romance novels than I care to admit," he chuckled.

"What else do you like? Movies?"

"Ahh, I haven't seen a movie in three years," he sighed. "But I love it when I do. Sometimes I'd sneak into the drive in, after I first ran away, and watch there, but I'd always get chased off before the end. I like to write, though. When I'm not keeping the dream journal, I journal about other things. I mail them back to my parents from time to time, in hopes that they'll hang onto them. I address them to my mom."

"I like to write, too, but I can't get the hang of long stuff. Mostly, I write short stories, or poetry. Bad poetry," she laughed, hoping it didn't sound as self-deprecating as it felt. "Do you ever wonder . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind. It's too personal."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"I was just thinking, do you ever wonder what it would be like to stay in one place for a while? To have a house and, I don't know, a family, or a dog or something?"

"I think about it every day," he said softly. "But it's just not a reality for me. I don't think . . . I have this feeling that I'm not meant to make it past this thing, whatever it is. I've been seeing this battle my entire life, but I've never seen anything after. I've been plagued with visions my whole life. What use is there for a man who is half crazed by otherworldly visions, who can't even hold down a job? Maybe it's better that way."

"Don't say that," she replied urgently. "Maybe you don't see what happens after because it's not where you need to focus. Maybe God needs your mind on that, but once that's over, maybe things will change?"

"Heh, I doubt it. My life is fodder for whoever or whatever whims or fates plague me with these visions. I've always known that. I've accepted it," he said, though she thought he seemed pretty angry about it. He referred to the visions as a disease or scourge. It was odd, because the first thing she thought of when he explained about them was that they were a remarkable gift. "Sorry, I've depressed you."

"No, I was just thinking. We all have a calling, or so I believe. It can be pretty hard to listen to it, especially since we usually think we know better about our lives."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Maybe. I made some decisions this last year that were against everything I knew was right, and I paid for it. I have this thought that if I would have just shut up and kept doing what I know I was called to do, that things would have worked out better. Not perfectly, mind you, but better than they did. It sounds like you're at least following your calling. It's better than the other way."

Sam withdrew into himself after this, and dozed for a while, then had another vision. She drove on, wondering what it would be like to truly listen to that little voice, and trust that it wouldn't lead her astray.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Taka stretched, and grabbed another paper. The topic this week was World War II, which was pretty interesting to teach as a Japanese man. The students were all very nervous to answer any questions about Japan's role in the war, and even more anxious about saying anything that might come off as not politically correct. It was kind of fun to watch them squirm. These papers were short, and only worth five percent of their grades, and the quality reflected that. Another paper letting him know that the Germans had invaded the U.S. received a failing grade.

A knock on the door alerted Taka to the presence of one of his co-workers. He looked up eagerly, thrilled to be interrupted. It was Lena, the striking red-head he had known for several years.

"How's the grind?" Lena asked, making her way around desks and chairs. She stopped in front of him, and gave him a winning smile. "Oh, not World War II again."

"Summer school is my favorite," he grimaced. "How's your class going?"

"Oh, about the same as always. They don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, so we do what we can before they lose all attention and I let them go early."

"I can't bring myself to do that. Besides, it leaves unaccounted time between when we let them out and when their parents expect them. Since there are two pregnant girls and one really, really twitchy guy, I can think of a couple things they might be off doing. I try to at least give their parents a fighting chance."

"They'll do what they want one way or the other," Lena shrugged. "So how are the wedding preparations? Your future in-laws were coming into town soon, right?"

"It's . . . kind of insane. Miaka and Nakago—my in laws—got into town last week. It's been pretty interesting. I'm glad to have them here lending a hand, though. Miaka has basically taken over the catering, and has promised to have something definite by tomorrow, which is good since we're so short on time. Nakago has been keeping Kaena from going crazy, and even pulled dad-rank at the dress shop when they told her they wouldn't be able to get it in her size with enough time to make alterations. He raised hell, and they're emergency shipping it, so it'll be here in a month."

"You're on a first name basis already?"

"Not already—I actually . . . this is so weird, but I've known Kaena since she was a kid. I was friends with her parents. We, um, worked together." That was about the only way he could explain that without saying way too much.

"That's not so bad. She's not a kid now," Lena hitched her hip over the edge of one of the desks and swung her feet back and forth. "Is it weird that she's so young? Her parents have to be closer to your age than she is."

"We're about the same distance, actually," he mumbled. "It isn't weird when I think of Kaena. She's incredible. She's not a typical twenty-one year old. She's getting her Ph.D. for heaven's sake! But it is weird since there is history. It's been strange to have her parents around."

"Do they not approve?"

"I honestly think they approve of me more than they would most men, but, well, her father and I weren't always on the best of terms, and her mother and I were on much closer terms than is usual."

"Wait, did she cheat with you?!"

"No! It's a complicated story. Nobody did any wrong in it. It's just weird. It's all just weird. I'm going to be married in two months. That feels like forever, but it also feels way too soon."

"I think it's about time you settled down," she said. "I think it's unbelievable that a man your age isn't married, and never has been! All the good ones are snapped up, including you."

"I'm a huge pain in the ass, trust me, you're not missing much," he laughed. She laughed at this too, but it felt a bit strained. Vinny and Chuck had suggested she might have feelings for him before—he wondered if those feelings had been resolved by his engagement, or only magnified. You want what you can't have and all.

"Well, you will have to introduce me to your young bride sometime. I need to meet the woman who has stolen dear Taka's heart."

Taka immediately made the decision to prevent that from happening. He loved Kaena and he wasn't ashamed of her, but regular people didn't really get her. They didn't understand that she was a deep well, full of dark, cool water. She was a pretty enough well on the outside, but she came off cold, and distant rather than deep and mysterious. Somebody like Lena, who was so outgoing and friendly and warm would never understand what he saw in her, because Kaena would never let an outsider, somebody so unlike her, see her as she truly was—as Taka saw her. It would just be frustrating for Kaena, and for Lena. "Yeah, definitely," he said half-heartedly. "Well, I should get back to work on these. I'm meeting Kaena later for a long-awaited date night."

Lena smiled and kicked off from the desk, sauntering out of the classroom, and disappearing with a little wave of her fingertips. Taka raked his hands through his hair and picked up another paper. He was sure there would be people who didn't understand it, and he was sad that he wouldn't be able to share her with them. There were people like Mark and Chuck who thought she was a booty call, like he had a kink for smoking hot, frigid bitches. They saw her body and her beautiful, exotic face, and when they spoke to her, they assumed that he tolerated her coldness because of her body. That couldn't be further than the truth, of course. He loved her, from the top of her head to her toes, and all the things in between, but if she had been squat and plain or a gigantic Amazon, he wouldn't care, because he loved her mind and heart. More hurtful were the people who just saw the body and didn't even bother to look at the brain, assuming he liked young girls. Worst were the people who understood how different she was, and thought she could do better. He didn't care how unusual a pairing it seemed to be, because in his heart, he knew that he loved her, and always would.

Giving up on his papers, Taka shoved them back into his desk and locked it, and decided to go for a run around the lake. He wanted to be alert for Kaena, and these papers were just numbing his brain. Determined, the man grabbed his keys and strode out.

...

Sam felt his body stiffen, felt the familiar onslaught of images and sounds and memories that haven't happened yet. He grabbed Rowan's arm half-involuntarily, his body went numb. He was standing in the middle of the highway looking East. The air was humid and warm, and the wind was blowing in soft gusts that smelled of ozone. It was late in the day, the sun hanging low at his back, so low it heated him even through the dense clouds. It was darker where he stood, and lightning flashed around him. He saw a small windmill on a farm spinning crazily, heard the creak of farm equipment rattling in the wind. The air felt so thick. He couldn't get over how thick it felt.

To his left, he spotted the funnel. It wasn't even raining, but he could see the funnel dropping from the sky like a wide cone. The cars didn't see it. He wanted to scream for them, but he only stood silently. The funnel touched the ground, once, then skipped back up into the sky. He blew out his breath, but then it was back, closer to the highway, and now it was raining. No, Sam though as the hard pebbles pelted his skin, it was hailing. The grey funnel touched down not a quarter mile from the freeway. The road was slick from the hail. A man in a red truck spotted the funnel, and sped up, trying in vain to outrun the funnel, but it was on the man, picking up the cherry red pick-up truck and throwing it into the westbound lanes. An 18-wheeler screeched to a halt in front of the truck, but too late, the scraping crash of metal on metal made Sam's ears ring.

The rain was heavy now, though Sam could still see it all. Now somebody on the eastbound side was spinning out of control in the wind. Two small cars crashed into one another, then another crashed into them. Traffic was piled up on both sides, and the wind of the tornado was like a tempest, buffeting his ears, though the wind didn't touch him. He turned and stared toward the sun, where the sky was blue beyond the massive thunderhead. He spotted a little blue VW with a cute girl, and a man sleeping in the passenger seat. He screamed and ran toward them, but she was fiddling with the radio. She looked up just in time to see the pile up and the destruction, and his breath stopped as he watched the man jerk forward in the seat and crack his head on the dash, and watched the girl's body explode from the force of her body moving seventy miles per hour into the rubble.

Two more tornadoes popped out of the sky, and he could see that they were near a populated area now—near the outside edges of Columbia, Missouri. He didn't need to see the rest to know what would happen.

Sam gasped and panted, his hand still clutching Rowan's. He sat forward, looking at the clear, blue skies and endless road stretched before them. He looked at the clock on the dash—4 pm. They were passing through Kansas City now. By six, the sun would be hanging low, and they would be nearing Columbia.

"Are you all right?" she asked, gently peeling his fingers off her wrist and steering with her thigh for a moment. He apologized for grabbing her, and raked his fingers through his pale hair.

"No. No, we're not all right. Nobody is going to be all right. We have to stop in Kansas City. We have to wait it out."

"Wait what out?"

"There's going to be a tornado near Columbia at a little after six. It's going to hit right off the freeway at rush hour, and it's going to kill a lot of people in a massive pileup, and in the city."

"Are you sure?" she asked shakily.

"Absolutely sure," he couldn't seem to find his voice.

She looked up at the sky. There was one, innocent looking puffy cloud just north of them, but it was an otherwise perfect day. She seemed to contemplate this. "Well, I've seen clearer days turn stormy. There's a sports bar we stopped at once in Westport, which isn't too far from the highway. We can stop there, and we should be able to watch the news.

Glad she wasn't going to argue, and glad he wasn't going to have to force her to stop to save her life, Sam tightened his seatbelt and watched numbly as they entered downtown Kansas City, and the little cloud began to grow.

By six pm, she was skeptical. They had been watching the news for the last hour, and there wasn't a single mention of a tornado or any bad weather. In fact, there was a baseball game schedule to take place at Kauffman Stadium later. Sam nursed his drink and watched the news silently. The girl, at least, didn't seem to be afraid of him anymore. She drank a diet coke slowly, fiddling with her napkin while they waited for their food. The place was pretty empty still, presumably because it wasn't a bar time of day just yet. Team pennants and football helmets lined the walls, and a few men shot pool in the little hall to the side. After badgering the bartender to change the channel thirteen times, the man had handed Sam the remote.

"You never told me why you're driving home now," he said suddenly, trying to keep his mind off of the gnawing feeling in his gut. He wanted to stop this, but not even he could stop weather, and who would believe him if he told them about it?

"What do you mean?"

"It's the end of June, isn't it? Don't classes usually end in May? Or did you take a summer session?" he poked the ice in his glass, suggestively eying the waiter, who made his way over and filled the glass with a sardonic smile.

"They do," she said. He had seen her face close like she had pulled the shutters. "I didn't take summer classes. My . . . my lease fell through. I decided to move home for the summer. Most of my stuff is in storage."

"Oh, that's too bad. Did your landlord screw up or something?"

She screwed up her face for a minute as if deciding something important, then sighed. "My boyfriend actually dumped me."

"Ah," he said, somewhat surprised. This girl, with her little diamond cross pendant, didn't look like the type to live with her boyfriend. Well, he supposed his parents hadn't been perfect little Presbyterians either. "So you were living together?"

"Not . . . really," she sighed. "He wanted me to. Said, well, never mind. I stayed there sometimes, but kept my place, then when it came to renew my lease he said I should just move in. He pushed and pushed, and I finally gave in. Then he dumped me. He had to have known . . . he had to know he was going to dump me, and did it just to be mean spirited. One final kick in the gut."

"He sounds like a real nice guy," he said sourly, frowning. "Want me to beat him up for you or something? I know tricks. I hung out with hobos. Those guys fight dirty."

She chuckled, but it was strained. "I guess it was just stupid of me. I shouldn't have given in, but it feels like that's all I ever did. He commanded, I obeyed. What a screwed up relationship."

"Why'd you stay with that asshole?" he watched her face carefully.

"Because I'm an idiot?"

"No, you're not," he said softly. When she said it that way, it it didn't sound like a joke—she really believed it. Had he told her she was stupid?

"You don't even know me. How can you say if I'm stupid or not? He made his opinion about me pretty plain. He said it was so I could improve myself. Like he was just such a nice guy."

He felt she was close to tears. He didn't want to see tears welling in those pretty blue eyes, or sliding down that creamy pale skin. He had to say something to make her feel better, or reassure her or something. He reached forward to take her hand, and ended up spilling his coke in his lap. Awesome!

"Oh my gosh!" she hopped up and very industriously began catching the ice and water as it dripped into his lap, directing the overflow back into the cup. The waiter appeared again, with a twisted smirk on his face as if to say, you deserved that for asking for a refill! But he helped clean up the mess, and reappeared with a fresh drink. He wouldn't have been surprised if the man had brought him a kiddie cup.

"I'm such a klutz," he laughed. "Jeez, it looks like I pissed myself."

She handed him a napkin with a small grin on her face. It had, at least, worked to stifle her tears.

"I better go change," he pushed himself up. She hesitated a minute, then handed him her keys. If he were going to take off with the car, he could have done it before, or so he figured she thought. As he reached the door, he heard the TV get suddenly louder, and the noise in the bar ceased. He turned to the TV, where a newscaster spoke in a rapid, pressured way. Her face was pinched, as if she were about to lose it. He returned to the bar so he could hear.

"Fifteen minutes ago, three tornados touched down just outside Columbia, MO. Two-hundred and ten people were killed when the tornado crossed I-70, causing two collisions, followed by a nearly three hundred car pileup." Sam glanced at Rowan, who was white lipped and clutching the edge of the table. "Even more disastrously, it appears that," and this was where the reporter lost it. She disappeared off the screen for a minute, then returned, face pale, voice flat. "A summer music camp for children meeting at the University of Missouri football stadium was unable to evacuate inside in time to avoid the tornado that crossed through the city. Forty-six children have been killed, and six volunteer music teachers. We expect tornadoes in the area throughout the night, and we urge you to take shelter and avoid being caught outside until the danger has passed."

He sat down, pants still wet, across from Rowan. She looked at him with wide eyes. "You saw this? You saw it all?"

"Not," he swallowed hard. "Not the camp. I didn't know. I would have warned them . . . tried."

Tentatively, she reached for his hand. He could see in her face that she was coming to realize what it meant to know, and to be unable to do anything. It hurt. It hurt like she couldn't possibly imagine. Even the people he had helped didn't outweigh all the ones he hadn't. Why did he have these horrible visions? If he could do nothing to change the events, was there any reason? Maybe he had done something terrible in a past life, and this was the price he paid, or maybe fate or God or whatever was or wasn't out there just hated him, and randomly dumped these curses onto innocent people.

He put his hand over hers, and she turned a pleasant pink color. They watched the news in horror for the rest of the evening, and when it was still storming into the late evening, they decided to get a room for the evening.

...

Rowan closed the bathroom door and turned on the water. She usually preferred to shower in the morning, but something about spending the day in the car made her feel sickly with sweat and recirculated grime. She skinned out of her clothes and stepped into the warm spray, lathering up her loofa and beginning to wash. It was hard to imagine what it felt like to be Sam, seeing those things and then turning on the news, knowing you knew, but couldn't do anything. She couldn't imagine it—but she knew it had to be terrible. The way he had touched her hand earlier had made her respond in a way that she knew was wrong. She shouldn't want to be with him. She had just gotten out of a terrible relationship, and here she was getting ready to hop back onto somebody else. Figuratively. Or, she thought, remembering her physiological response to him, perhaps not.

She was ashamed at her sudden feelings for him. This was a drifter, for heaven's sake! A man with no family, no friends, just himself and the road. No responsibilities . . . except, wasn't he sort of responsible for a whole lot more than most people? The man saw, she believed without a doubt, the future. She had no idea how to begin working that into her personal beliefs, except to admit that he might be touched by God in some way, but she was intrigued by his sweetness, and amused by his tartness, and captivated by his pain.

None of that mattered, though, because she didn't stand a chance in hell with a man like him. She washed her doughy torso and grimaced, hating her body, hating herself for not having better self control, for not working out more. Except that she never really seemed to eat anything that unhealthy, and aside from lately, because she'd been driving across the country, she even usually played volleyball with friends a couple times a week. But Grant had always implied that her physique was her own doing, and if she would just put some damn effort into herself, she would look a thousand times better. Well, she didn't need HIS charity! She would rather be alone than with somebody who devalued her like he had, or so she thought. But then, why had she stayed with him? She'd had no desire, really, to break up with him. She desperately wanted his approval, in fact. She wanted to be wanted, even if she wasn't liked or loved or cherished. At least he had wanted her. Or maybe she had just been a convenience.

She looked down at herself. She at least had nice boobs, even if Grant had always said they were too big and saggy. They had always been big, even when she was skinny. It was just how she was built. She had a gut, and quite a backside, though truth be told, she did like her butt. It was big and round, but still firm. Her arms and legs were an average length, despite her short stature. She liked her hair. She just felt so inadequate, like everything she was, inside and out, wasn't really worth anybody's time. It was an easy message to hear, and an even easier one to believe. After all, good Christian girls were humble. That had been drilled into her since childhood. Maybe she'd taken it too much to heart.

She reached for the shampoo, then realized it must have fallen out in her gym bag. She looked around for a towel. Great, they weren't actually in the bathroom, but, she recalled, stacked on a shelf outside it. She stepped carefully out. "Um, Sam?" she called.

There was no answer. Rowan poked her head out of the bathroom, and didn't see him. She bit her lip and considered. He probably went out for ice, or to ask something at the front desk, so he'd probably be a few minutes. She opened the door, wet feet making little footprints on the carpet, and dug in her bag. She pulled out all her clothes and couldn't find the shampoo. She looked up when she heard the door click, but it was too late. Sam stepped into the room, carrying a bucket of ice and an extra pillow. Rowan screamed and grabbed the blanket off the bed, sending the contents of her gym bag soaring across the room. Sam gasped and whirred around, apologizing. Mortified, she dashed back to the bathroom, grabbing a towel in one hand and the little complimentary shampoo and conditioner with the other, slamming the door.

Her heart pounded and she slid into the tub, covering her face. The water beat her back and she sobbed. He had turned so quickly, surely disgusted by what he saw. She couldn't believe she had done that. She cried until the water started to get cold, and then she quickly finished up and sat down on the edge of the tub, wrapped in the towel. She could hear him out there, moving around, picking things up, turning on the TV. She waited until she was shivering before she toweled off her hair and put on her pajamas.

She emerged, looking at her feet, and skittered to her bed. He had picked up all her things, folded her clothes neatly, except her underwear, which was piled modestly beside her socks, and had even paired her shoes up. She avoided his gaze by turning her back on him as she combed her long, brown hair.

He cleared his throat, and she looked nervously over her shoulder. "Um," he said. "I'm really sorry. I didn't realize, um, obviously. I didn't mean to barge in."

"It's your room too," she said stiffly.

"I, maybe I should go," he stood up, and her heart clenched. Was she really that ugly, that he couldn't even stand to look at her? He put his hands in his pockets. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't be happy having me hang around, especially not after I saw you, um, you know."

Why was that? He would be repulsed at that point, so of course he wouldn't try anything.

"I'm sorry," he said again, lamely.

"It wasn't your fault," she said softly. "You don't have to go."

"Are you sure?" he bit his lip. There was something odd in his gaze, and about the way he had his hands fisted in his pockets. He was standing kind of uncomfortably, looking twitchy.

She lowered her brows. "I'm sure, if you want."

"Okay. I'm going to go for a walk, though. I'll be back in a bit."

She nodded, and didn't look at him as he disappeared into the hallway. Rowen fell backwards on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She wanted to cry, but she was just too damn tired.

...

Sam walked down the hall and outside. It was a nice, warm night, and people were out and about, having dinner on the patio, or going for romantic walks. He had wanted to stay in the room to apologize, and the time she had spent sobbing in the shower had allowed his painful arousal to subside. He still felt twitchy and excited, however. He could understand being embarrassed by being seen naked by a virtual stranger, but she had seemed way more than embarrassed; she'd seemed mortified and horrified, and downright miserable. He had thought maybe it was because she feared him, but when Sam had heard her crying, he had realized that it wasn't him, it was her. She, for whatever reason, was absolutely ashamed of her body. He had noticed her sort of awkwardness, and how she barely touched her food in front of him. An unexpected flash of anger washed over him when he thought of what she had said earlier, about the jackass who had dumped her. She had called herself stupid—was that a thought that had been planted by that asshole? Was her shame a product of that relationship, too?

He honestly didn't see what she was so upset about. To him, she was beautiful. Painfully so, he thought, willing his arousal away. She was short and soft and curvy, with lovely brown hair, and the face of an angel. He had been attracted to her since the moment he saw her, and seeing her naked had only confirmed what he knew—he wanted nothing more than to tear her clothes off and ravish her. He'd never allowed himself to get that close to anybody before, however. That wasn't to say he was totally inexperienced, but he was not exactly practiced, either.

For once, he wanted somebody to hold him, to take his hand like she had earlier, and tell him it was all right, without trying to explain why he had the visions or what the meant—he just wanted somebody to empathize with what he experienced. He wanted to go back in there, grab her around the waist, kiss her, and show her exactly how beautiful he found her, but he knew that wasn't possible. She had just gotten out of a terrible relationship and knew that either way he was damned. If he waited and let her come to him, she never would, because she had such a low opinion of herself, but if he pursued her, she would probably be spooked and run. Damn. Damn damn damn.

Sam turned left and continued around the building. The last of the late night diners were heading in, and the lovers had all gone back inside. He supposed he should do the same, but damn, being around her was difficult, and yet he couldn't get enough of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Miaka looked through the wedding plan book she had put together. So far, everything was in order. They now had the caterer making a lovely salmon dinner, with an option for chicken or vegetarian, and the mix-up with the China patterns had been solved. Nakago had handled the dress situation, and now Kaena mostly just needed jewelry and shoes. The tuxedos were rented, the limousine for after the ceremony—a surprise for them that Miaka had thought off—was all paid for. Everything was coming together.

She felt inexplicably apprehensive. Miaka didn't think it was because of the wedding. It had been strange at first, when she had realized that Taka, who had once been her Tamahome, was dating her daughter. Tamahome who she had loved, who had traveled through dimensions to find her, who had died in her arms, and then come to life again. But Tamahome was a man who died long ago, and Taka was who he was now, and he was not hers. She glanced across the couch at her husband, and she felt no regret for the life they had built together these past thirty years. She had loved a boy who was sweet and kind and protected her, and then she had lost him, and realized that what she had felt for him, that affection, wasn't really love. Feeling the pain of another like the twist of a knife was love, and feeling his joy and triumphs, that was love, and loving him even though he pushes you away sometimes, and loving him even more when he needs you. That, she knew, was love, and she had loved Nakago for most of her adult life.

Miaka gazed at him from across the room. He was still extraordinarily handsome. His age was starting to show, finally, she thought begrudgingly, thinking of her rigorous anti-wrinkle regimen and the fact that she of all people had cut out sweets, mostly, from her diet. His hair was liberally peppered with grey now, and he didn't have the hard body he'd once had—hell, she didn't have even the soft body she'd once had!-but he was still proud and strong and rakishly handsome.

She couldn't picture her life without him. For as long as she could remember, there had been a strapping, blonde man sitting on her couch, sitting at his desk, or at his kitchen table. He had been an incredible father. All the emotional reservation he felt with others disappeared when he was with Kaena. He had showered her with love, taught her all the things he knew, he had mourned for her when he thought she was lost, and he had returned to himself when she was back. He had been an incredible father to her, and she loved him for that more than anything else. And he had always supported them, financially, but his quiet, calm emotional support was what was amazing about him. She saw how some families had been, with husbands who supported them and the children, but didn't love them. She knew that Nakago would never have tolerated that. He would rather have been alone than with those he felt reserved around.

Miaka had always been the opposite, and it had taken a long time to understand his reservation was for his own safety. Those he didn't care about couldn't hurt him. But Miaka knew that she could rip his heart out with a word. It was a power she had never cared to exercise. Such a physically powerful man would have been so easily toppled by a word.

"You look constipated," his dry voice cut through her reverie.

"You look old," she retorted. "What's it to you?"

"Ugh," he said, and pushed away the dessert he'd been eating. She grinned and made her way across the room to him, stealing a bite of it. Strawberry shortcake—delicious. "What are you think about?"

"You, mostly," she sat down in his lap. "Your hair is going grey, my dear."

"Don't remind me," he said with a frown. "This wedding is going to be the death of me. Do you have any idea how much that caterer you picked cost?"

"Why? Is it too much?" she was suddenly worried. They had never had to be concerned financially, but renting this place for several months, and all the wedding expenses, could they be straining their resources?

"No, but the thought of sitting in a dining hall with two hundred strangers for an evening is enough to give me a heart attack. Having to pay for my own heart attack strikes me as a little ridiculous."

"Don't joke about that," she touched his face. "It will give me wrinkles."

"More wrinkles?" he raised his brows.

"You're terrible. I don't know why I tolerate you."

"Because," his mouth captured hers, and Miaka felt herself melt the same way she had melted when she was twenty years old. He pulled away, leaving her panting. "You adore me and you know it."

She smiled and kissed his forehead where the symbol for heart would have appeared. "I'm worried."

"About what? The wedding?" he took her hands. "I could always break Taka's knees and convince him to go away for good."

"No. Well, yes. It's strange, I'll admit, but it's more than that," she thought. She was scared, she felt the people she loved slipping away from her. Taka hadn't been hers, not for a very long time, and that was fine, but her daughter was truly a woman now, and already it seemed like she didn't need her parents. And Nakago, she thought, looking at his beautiful face, a face that had always been startlingly pretty, was aging faster than her, was ten years older than her. "Maybe I'm just afraid that I'm losing you."

"Me?"

"Collective you. Kaena and Taka, and you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he captured her mouth again.

"You know that you're not allowed to die before me, right?" she ran her fingers through his soft hair, looking into the icy orbs she had become so accustomed to over the years.

"Nonsense. I refuse to let you die first. When I go, Kaena will still need you. But if you leave me, I will have nothing. She doesn't need me anymore. She has Taka."

"Do you think he's a replacement for you?" she asked curiously.

"It's the way of things. Daughters grow up, they get married."

"I never really had a father," she watched his face carefully. "But dear, she calls you when she calls home, not me."

"Maybe I just don't want to live without you," he wrapped his strong arms around her and buried his face against her soft breasts.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him there. He had always been a man alone, and he had always needed her desperately. "I'll make you a deal. We'll go together, all right?"

"Just not like old people in our beds. Not unless we die of pleasure in bed," he seemed to consider this. "But a good death. Like my first one, except without Taka killing me, hopefully."

"Deal," she kissed him. "I love you, heart."

His mouth devoured her, and he showed her exactly how much he still loved her.

...

The next morning, they departed bright and early in hopes of making up for some of the time they had lost yesterday. They still had to cross through Missouri, Illinois, and part of Indiana, although admittedly, Sam wasn't in any rush for her to drop him in Indianapolis. They stopped at a gas station near the freeway, and he hopped out to pump the gas. He turned on the pump and started it, and she started to get out of the car to pay inside.

"I'll do it," he said. "Mind if I get us some coffee for the road?"

"Sure," she said, handing him her parents' credit card. He looked at the name—Lillian Howyll. So she was Rowan Howyll. She hadn't told him her last name. Sam went in and paid for the gas and bought a cup of coffee and a diet coke for her, which he knew was her favorite drink, and returned to find her leaning on the steering wheel. She looked exhausted, and he would have offered to drive, but obviously with his visions, that was impossible.

"You know," he handed her the drinks and the card, hesitating. "You'd probably be more comfortable if you adjusted your seat a little."

She looked up at him. He knelt down next to her seat. "Your knees are too close to the dash, and you're not a safe distance from the steering wheel," he said, thinking of yesterday, of how her body had exploded against the steering wheel because she was so close to it. The seatbelt hadn't locked in time. He reached under the seat and slid it back until her shapely legs were only slightly bent. Then he moved the steering wheel up slightly, and used the little jack on the side to move the seat up so she could see over the wheel, yet tilt it back so she was at a more comfortable angle. All of this was accomplished with her sitting stiffly in the seat. He tried not to brush her too much in the course of moving her around, but he had a perfect view of her lovely figure from here. He grinned up at her briefly. "How does that feel?"

Rowan reached for the steering wheel. Her arms were now the perfect distance from the wheel, and she could still see over it without being hunched. She sat back in the seat, which was now at about a thirty degree angle from its normal upright position. She looked vastly more comfortable. "It's perfect. How did you do that? I adjust the seat every week trying to get it where I want it!"

"When I learned how to drive, they taught us how to adjust our seat to be safe. I just took into account the length of your limbs, and it wasn't too hard," he shrugged and walked around the car to hop in the passenger seat.

"Thank you," she said quietly, and put the car in gear. They started for the freeway once again. It was eight when they made it to Columbia, and the disaster was haunting. Sam couldn't believe the destruction. The freeway had been mostly cleared, but it was down to one lane each way because of damage to the structure itself. The exit to Stadium drive was completely closed. He swallowed hard and cursed whoever had given him a vision that he could do nothing about. Except, he had saved himself, and he had saved Rowan. What if she had been driving alone through this spot yesterday night? She would have died alone, and he would have never had the chance to know her.

They stopped briefly in St. Louis for lunch, and continued on I-70 until they got to Illinois, where 70 and 57 split. "You're going the wrong way," he looked up suddenly. "You need to be in the right lane."

"No, I'm not," she said. "I'm taking 57 North."

"To where?" he questioned.

"To Chicago," she replied. "I'm going with you. I've always wanted to visit Chicago."

"You really don't have to do that," he protested. "It's not that far to hitchhike from Indy."

"If we went to Indy, you'd be adding excess time to your trip, and I know time is important here. I feel like I'm meant to do this, like I'm meant to be with you. I mean," she stuttered. "I mean, I think I'm meant to help you with this, whatever it is."

He thought about this for a moment, then nodded slowly. It had felt right, meeting her by the side of the road, traveling with her. It had felt too right. He wanted to be with her too, but he would settle for having her help on whatever this task was to be. "All right," he said at last.

"I should probably stop using my parents' credit card," she said mournfully. "Except maybe for gas and the occasional meal."

"I'm sure there are lots of cheap hostels in Chicago where we can stay, and if we find the woman we're looking for, I have a feeling we'll be able to manage somehow."

She nodded, and they drove on. It was so pleasant riding with her. Mostly, they were silent together, content in it, listening to the radio or to her eclectic mix of rock and show tunes. But sometimes they had discussions, or chatted, or asked each other questions. He thought he could sit in a car with her forever.

They were getting close when they came on Kankakee, and found the freeway closed. The river had flooded, and they were directed around the city, taking them several hours out of the way.

"Doesn't it seem like there have been a lot of disasters in the last few days?" she asked as they took a country road north of the city, then turned east again. "I mean, the disaster on the coast, the fires in the west, tornadoes, floods, volcanoes in Europe—they say Mt. Hood in Portland has been rumbling lately. I kind of wonder if maybe this is . . ." she paused, flushing. "I know this makes me sound like some crazy religious nut, but doesn't it feel like something is coming? Like, like the end of days, or something?"

He opened his mouth to deny this, then paused. It felt like something was coming, that was for sure, but it didn't feel like it was supposed to come, if that made sense. All his life he had known that all things living were finite, but this was too soon. There was just too much still to be done with the world. He thought of the woman, the Destroyer, and how she had appeared in his dreams when he was a boy. She had been a girl like him, and she had herself dreamed—of destruction, of an end to things, but an end before it was time. "I think that whoever is causing this is doing so outside of-" he groped for the word. _Fate_, something whispered in his ear, and he jumped. "Outside of fate. And whoever is going to stop her is also outside of it."

"I don't believe there is anything outside of God's ordination."

"Do you agree that people have free will?"

"Of course."

"So isn't it possible for people to do things that aren't according to some master plan?"

"Of course it is, but God knew they would make those choices, even if they're not the choices He would want, and those things, too, are part of the plan."

"So every choice we will ever make is already known. That doesn't seem very free to me."

"You still made the choices, even if God knew you would do it. I don't think people can operate outside God's will. I just don't."

"I think that's a very . . ." he was going to say 'ignorant' view but changed it to, "Christian view of the world. Other religions view the world a lot differently. How do you know you're right? How do you know it's not the Hindus or the Buddhists that figured it out? I don't think life would be worth living if everything was planned. I can't believe that some being planned to give me these horrible visions for some abstract reason in the future. If it's not random, then God is cruel and evil."

She sighed. "Who said there has to be one right answer?"

He snapped his mouth shut at this. He didn't think he'd ever heard another Christian admit that another religion might have some of the answers. "I know what I know, and I know that there is something about this that is outside of fate, or God or whatever. I believe we're all outside of it in the end. It's just too awful to know suffering could possibly be in some master plan."

She shrugged. "The visions cause you a lot of pain," she said simply.

He looked over at her. "What do you know about it?"

"I know what it's like to feel helpless and out of control," she said quietly. "I would rather believe there's a reason for my pain than that it was just some mishap. I don't think I could have gotten through the last year without that. Maybe I'm just weak."

"It hurts so much," he felt his heart pounding and his breath squeezing out of him. He felt himself vomiting up all those things he had crushed down inside, and couldn't stop it. "It hurts to see all that evil in the world, and know that people could do something, and just don't. It hurts worse to see the suffering and be able to do nothing to stop it myself. But I can't. I can't stop it. I'm not capable of it, and there is so much suffering. Even . . . I can see you're suffering, and I'm completely helpless to help you, and tell you that you're beautiful and wonderful and that guy was a jackass, because you won't believe me if I say it. It's hard to meet a child, to see its life, and know that child will die, leaving a mother alone, torturing herself with what ifs for the rest of her life. I know how torturous that question can be. And it's impossible to look out into the future full of nothing but evil and disasters, of all the things I see in my visions, and believe that there's a reason for that. It's cruel. It's just cruel. What if God did set all these things up? What if there is some cosmic reason for me to see these things, or for you to have to deal with that dickhead, or for a mother to lose her child? What does that say about a God who allows that to happen? And yet I know I have something important to do, and I hate it. I hate it and I hate anything that would let me and all those people suffer for its marionette show! Maybe I do believe in God, but if I do, I hate him with all my soul. It's not fair."

"It's not fair," she said. "But it's just. And there are good things, too."

"I've suffered all my life. My father . . . couldn't even stand to look at me, and my mother just let him beat the shit out of me. I've been isolated by these visions, and wandering the world all alone for so long. And if it's for me, to build up some kind of moral character or something? Well fuck that! There are plenty of people who don't live shitty lives that have character. Didn't you have character before . . .? Can you honestly say you're happy to have come out on the other side of that ass wad, or would you rewind it if you could? Would you go back to yourself, tell yourself never to go to that bar or party or whatever, tell yourself not to get involved? Because I think if I knew what I know about my life now that maybe I would have gone back to myself as a kid and told myself to jump off a building."

"You can't mean that," she said, but there was something in her eyes that understood.

"Would you?"

"What?"

"Would you erase it if you could? Would you forget all the bad things that happened, even if it meant changing your life?"

"I-" she paused, and stared ahead. When she spoke again, her voice was very quiet, and he wondered where she had gone to, where her thoughts had taken her. "I don't know."

Sam sat back, not satisfied by this, not at all. He wasn't a cynic, really, he wasn't a pessimist. He was actually an eternal optimist, but he didn't want there to be a reason for all of this. He didn't think he could live with what that would mean.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Kaena smiled and took her father's big, warm hand, leading him up the street. He lifted one brow at her and she only smiled wider. Taka had thought it might be fun if they arranged for them all to do something together, with their friends, so they decided to go to Navy Pier and shop, and dine at one of the restaurants there. Taka had gotten held up at work, and her mother was off doing something, though she wouldn't exactly say what—she suspected wedding gift shopping. They said they would join them later.

"Where are we going?" he asked again.

"It's a surprise."

"Wonderful," he said dryly, and her lip twitched. She thought that he and Taka were more alike than either of them would care to believe. It was still hot outside despite the lateness of the day, but her father didn't seem to mind. He looked cool as a cucumber in his white button down and black pants. She led him around the outdoor walkways to a spot that overlooked Lake Michigan. He paused, eyes looking very far away for a minute, and then they continued. When they approached Kaena and Taka's friends, he looked at her reproachfully. They were all standing around laughing and joking, and her heart warmed looking on them. These were hers. And she was theirs. Kajri hopped down from the ledge she'd been standing on and waved. Luke and Vinny grinned, although Vinny's grin faded slightly when he saw her father. She smiled demurely.

"Kaena . . ."

"What? We wanted you and mama to get out of the house and see a bit of the city. And my se-" she didn't finish the word 'seishi,' "friends were curious about you. You're pretty mysterious."

"Hm," he surveyed the group, put his hands in his pockets, and approached with her.

"Good evening," Luke said politely. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Gi."

"Hello," he said, and frowned at her again. She knew her father didn't exactly enjoy being shoved into unnatural groups of people, but they all had something in common, at least—uncanny magical powers that most normal people found terrifying. She smiled, remembering how much her father used to quietly complain before big state functions or even meetings at his firm. He didn't mind people he knew, but the only way he knew to deal with strangers was by intimidation, and that obviously wouldn't play here. Well, she knew how he felt, and didn't have a bit of sympathy for him.

"I hear there's an art museum inside," Kajri said, grabbing her sister by the arm. "Do you think we can see it?"

"If we have time," Kaena smiled. "We'll wander for a bit while we wait for Taka and my mom."

They started walking around the perimeter of the place, checking out the shops and kiosks. Most of the stuff was touristy or useless, but Kajri and Kaberi found plenty of scarves and shoes to entertain themselves with. Luke sidled up next to her father and began to make small talk.

"So I hear you're a politician," he said.

"Yes." Kaena nudged his side and he frowned at her.

"And you were a lawyer before. Do you still practice at all?"

"Every now and then, though less frequently these days," he glanced at his daughter and sighed. "You are a college professor?"

"That's right, though I considered going into the law myself. I guess I like arguing with people. I get my fill of it as a professor, though. I get to argue with my peers and my students!"

"I did always enjoy the fight," Nakago mused. "But there's not much challenge in it these days. Most people fear me enough not to engage me."

"I'd think you'd get plenty of arguments from your political competition?"

She glanced at Kaena with a look that said, clearly this man is not familiar with how Japan works, is he? She chuckled. "Politics in Japan are . . . somewhat different than here. It's definitely not as straight forward."

"Ah, interesting. I wish I knew more about Japan," Luke said. "Maybe I should take a visit sometime. I would be very interested in seeing some of the history. I'm particularly intrigued by how church and state there are seemingly one in the same."

"If you visit, perhaps I can show you some of the more interesting religious and historical sights. There is quite a lot of history of Christianity in Nagasaki, and of course, Shintoism is very important, as is Buddhism."

Vinny had managed to get close enough to get drawn into the conversation. "I'd like to see a baseball game there!"

"While I'm sure Japanese baseball is less about steroids and hot dogs than it is here, I imagine it would be an interesting comparison."

Vinny frowned, taking the steroid comment as a personal affront to American baseball, apparently. "Do Japanese players knock it out of the park much? I mean, with them being so much smaller and all."

Andy interrupted this comment by asking something about sushi restaurants, and getting into an in depth discussion of his favorite varieties. Her father frowned at Vinny. When he spoke again, his hard-eyed gaze fell on him. Kaena recognized that look, and tried to distract her father, but he was a man on a mission now.

"And what do you do?" he asked Vinny.

"I'm a teacher. I teach English."

Nakago raised his brows at this. Kaena sensed a backhanded compliment coming, and her father did not disappoint. "Well, it's too bad you couldn't find something more suited to your skills."

"I love teaching!" he frowned.

"Taka's a teacher," Kaena pointed out sensibly.

Nakago was silent for a moment, and then looked the large teacher straight in the face. "Yes, but I like him more than this one."

Miaka's timing was impeccable, because she appeared behind them just as Vinny was winding up to say something undoubtedly colorful. He deflated at the sight of the proper looking Japanese lady. Miaka destroyed this facade by virtually bouncing up and down to chatter about all the wonderful shops she visited. Kaena caught her mother's eye, and smiled gratefully. Miaka winked in return.

It wasn't five minutes later that Taka turned up. Vinny immediately caught his eye and motioned for him to come over, but Nakago interrupted him.

"What's on your collar?" he questioned in a very calm, very quiet voice.

"Hm?" he looked down at the collar of his light blue button down, pulling it away from his neck to scrutinize it. Kaena thought it looked like ketchup, or pizza sauce. "Oh, I don't know. That's weird. I don't think I ate anything red today."

"Looks like lipstick," Miaka chirped, then frowned. "Taka, have you been cross-dressing again?"

He laughed and shrugged. Kaena wrapped her arms around his waist. "You can't cross dress with me around, honey. You know you look better in heels than I do."

"Bullshit," Vinny said. "You look hot in heels!"

Luke slapped his own forehead. Kaena's father glared at the big Italian.

"Let's eat!" Miaka exclaimed, dragging her husband with one hand and Kaena with the other, they were drawn into a little Italian bistro. Kaena didn't really think much of the spot on Taka's collar—he wasn't a klutz, but he did eat fast during the day, and she had noticed stains on more than one occasion. So he would have had to dribble something down his chin to get a stain there. It was not impossible. Her father, however, seemed to have that dad-on-a-mission expression on his face. She hoped he was not thinking what she thought he was thinking.

She pushed the thought aside and focused on listening to everybody talk about their day, and laughing at Vinny's critique of the food, and Nakago's pot shots at him for it. She had missed her parents. It was good to have them here, with her friends. Despite all the anxiety and panic she'd been feeling lately, she was truly happy right at that moment. She hoped the feeling would last until the wedding and beyond.

...

Shortly after they arrived in Chicago, he had the worst vision yet. They had checked into their hostel on Rowan's credit card and were just settling in when Sam collapsed in a heap on the floor. Rowan stared, watching his body jerk in seizure-like motions, his body stiff, back arched, head slamming repeatedly into the floor. There wasn't any warning! Rowan grabbed a pillow and knelt down at his head, carefully lifting him until his head rested on the pillow on her knees. Tears leaked from his eyes, his limbs twitching wildly, lips drawn back from his teeth, muttering and mumbling. She felt his body relax before it stopped. It took another few seconds for his eyes to open. She saw panic in them, and disorientation, and then he saw her face and relaxed. He breathed raggedly for a few more minutes before pushing himself upright. She crawled to stay close to him, keeping a supporting hand on his shoulder. He looked pale and drained, like he might keel over at any second. It was terrifying to watch this man be reduced in such a way.

"Are you all right?" she asked shakily. She put her free hand firmly on the floor to stop it from trembling. She had no right to be scared—she hadn't even seen anything. "What—what did you see?"

He shook his head. His entire body was slumped in on itself. He looked like a man that wanted to disappear completely. "I can't. I can't."

"It's okay," she put her hand, shaking less now, on his arm. "You don't have to tell me." She could tell that whatever he had seen had been horrendous just by the tears that still trailed down his cheeks. She reached up and brushed one tear aside as it rolled down his face. He grabbed her hand.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she looked into his earnest face. "It's not like you can control it."

"I don't know why I'm crying. I don't know . . ." he trailed off. His breath hitched, and he stared at her, naked before her in a way that she had never been before him despite the mishap yesterday, and he wept. Fat tears flooded his face, and he hung his head, gasping raggedly. Rowan felt impotent to help this poor man, but she wasn't going to simply watch him sob and do nothing. It went against all her natural aversion to being touched to do it, but she wrapped her arms around him, engulfing him. He buried his head against her chest and sobbed harshly, and they sat on the floor like that for a long time.

"Sorry," he said again, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands, sniffing mightily. "God, this must be so embarrassing for you to watch me cry like a pussy."

"Crying is a natural response to stress. You release adrenaline and epinephrine when you go through something traumatizing, and then you need endorphins to stabilize your mood. Crying releases endorphins."

"You sound like a doctor," he said.

"I learned it in a psychology class," she shrugged sheepishly. "But really, it's natural. I cry sometimes, too. Everybody does." She cried more than she cared to admit to him, these days.

"You don't have to try to make me feel better. I'm used to it. It sucks, but it will suck less in a little while."

"Would you rather be alone?" she asked, suddenly noticing that he hadn't released his grip on her since he'd stopped crying. Unnerved, she tried to pull away slightly.

"No," he gripped more tightly. "It helps . . . it helps to have somebody to hold. It's comforting, in a weird way. Is that bizarre?"

"No," she decided, settling back down. They were leaning against the edge of one of the beds now. Her backside was falling asleep, despite its ample padding. "But we could sit on the couch, or the bed. This is, um . . . the floor is hard."

They stood up and broke contact, and it broke the moment somewhat. They sat down side by side on the end of the bed. He looked down at his folded hands, resting between his denim-clad knees. She looked over at him shyly. "Did you always go through this alone before?"

"When I was a kid, my mom would comfort me after. She would sit with me and hold me until I calmed down. When I got older, she stopped. I think my dad made her stop. I've kind of been on my own since."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Not your fault," he half-smiled, and she fully smiled in return. "Aha, so you can smile!"

Embarrassed, she covered her mouth and looked away. "Your dad sounds like a real nice guy."

"Yeah, he was. I guess he still is, as far as I know. I just want, or I guess I wish, or hope, that someday he'll know that I wasn't faking. Someday he'll understand that this is all real, and that I would have done anything to be the normal son he wanted, but I can't change this. Trust me, you know I would."

"I know," she said softly.

"What about you? What's your wish or hope or dream?"

"I don't know. I mean, my childhood was pretty good, and I can't complain much about my life in general. Ugly things happened to me, but ugly things happen to everyone. I think that really, right at this moment, my dream is to be able to face myself and not see all those ugly things, and not judge myself for being what I am. Is that weird?"

"No."

"There are a lot of ugly things about me right now," she picked a spot on the floor and stared at it. "Sorry, that sounds like compliment fishing."

"No, it sounds like somebody who has really low self-esteem because some jackass told her a bunch of stupid shit and she believed it for whatever reason. And I could tell you that I think you're beautiful and smart and funny all I want, but you won't believe it. You have to be able to tell yourself those things, and believe them."

"I know," she said, and then paused, chuckling. "How can you think I'm beautiful? Are you blind?"

"Are you?" he took her hands in one of his, and brushed her soft, brown hair from her face. "You're so lovely. I don't want to be creepy, but I thought you were gorgeous the moment I saw you."

"Don't lie," she looked away. "I know I'm pudgy and awkward and . . ."

Suddenly his mouth was on hers, interrupting her self-deprecation, silencing all her thoughts, except how warm and soft his lips were, and how good it felt for a man to put his hands on her, to caress her cheek and hold her. She drew away, embarrassed.

"Maybe I should kiss you every time you do that," he grinned rakishly, and she felt like the lower half of her body had turned into a puddle of goo.

"Wouldn't that just be rewarding it?" she hadn't intended to sound so breathless, but he had caught her off guard.

"Hmm, well, I suppose I could shock you or hit a gong or something, but this is more fun," he leaned in slowly, looking into her eyes, and paused for just a moment before he kissed her again. His hands touched her soft sides and she cringed, but he held her lightly, and didn't do any of the embarrassing things that Grant had done, like squeezing her rolls or poking her stomach. His hands were running up and down her back now, and he was tilting her back until she laid against the bed. She touched him, and felt his body tense suddenly, then relax. She touched his neck, his face, his broad shoulders, and he was unbuttoning her shirt and laying gentle kisses on her breasts. She couldn't do this. She knew where this was going, and it had to stop, but it felt so good to be with a man that didn't criticize her and tell her she was ugly and fat and stupid.

"Stop," she said softly, terrified that he would be angry, would reject her altogether for rejecting his advances. But he pulled away, his face buried in the crook of her neck, fingers laced with hers, and he just breathed for a long time. Finally, he pulled away.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to push. I don't want to violate your beliefs or anything," he plucked at the gold cross hanging from her neck. "Sorry."

"It's all right," she leaned her head against him, still slowly running her fingers through his soft hair. He sighed, and opened his mouth, probably to apologize again. "It's really all right."

He turned and wrapped his arms around her. When her tire had blown on the freeway, she had been terrified, and had sworn and raved about her rotten luck. Now she was thanking heaven for her flat tire. What a strange change in perspective.

"Have you done it before?" he asked quietly. "Had sex?"

She hesitated, not really wanting to explain about how it had been with Grant.

"Oh gosh, what an asshole question. I'm sorry, forget I asked."

"No, it's okay. You're just wondering what you're getting into. I'm, uh, I'm not a virgin," she buried her face against his chest. She was so embarrassed by that. Most people were embarrassed to be virgins—she was the opposite. It wasn't that she thought it was wrong. She was pretty sure God wouldn't have made the clitoris if he didn't want women to enjoy sex. But she hadn't wanted to lose it to that man. She hadn't been ready, and she hadn't loved him. "It's not like I was necessarily planning on waiting. I wasn't not planning on it either, you know? I just didn't really want to, with him."

"How did it happen?" he asked softly. "Did he force you?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "Not—not physically. Cajoled is a better word. Or campaigned. He knew I was a virgin when we met. I told him straight off the bat that I wasn't interested in that, and he said that was fine, he would respect me and all. Then a few months later, we started dating more seriously, but I was getting busy with classes, and work, and I had a lot of male friends, and he started to accuse me of cheating on him. I said that was ridiculous, I wasn't having sex with anyone! Then he said I was not having sex with him because I didn't really like him and was avoiding intimacy, so maybe we should just break up. In retrospect, I was. It was more complicated than that, but I never saw us working out, and by then he had kind of broken me down and I thought I would never find a man as long as I lived and so . . . one night I went over to his place, and we started watching a movie, and he started groping me and when I pushed him away he said I didn't love him, I was too fat and ugly and stupid to have such high standards, and he said if I didn't do it he'd dump me. So I did."

"What was it like?"

"Horrible. Painful, awkward, and I felt so dirty. I knew I hadn't wanted it. It got better over time. It didn't hurt so much, and it was . . . I know this is terrible, but if I fantasized about people I actually liked, it didn't feel so disgusting."

"I'm sorry you went through that," he whispered into her hair. She looked at his hands. He had such nice, long fingers, and she wanted those hands on her. But not yet, not so soon.

"It's okay. Well, it's not okay, but it's over. It will be okay."

"Yeah, it will be."

"What about you?" she asked quietly. "Surely you've been with some beautiful, amazing girls."

He flushed slightly and looked up at the ceiling. "Actually, no . . ."

"No?"

"Never."

She felt a mixture of guilt and elation. This was a man who, for whatever reason, didn't choose to dip his wick into any wax that would take it. He certainly could have good looking girls lining up for him, if he wanted. Hell, some would pay admission! But at the same time, she felt so dirty for having simply allowed Grant to take that from her.

"I know it's embarrassing," he laughed nervously. "I guess I just never found the right girl before."

The implication of that statement hit her, and he tried not to gape at him. "It's not embarrassing. It's pretty awesome," she smiled and hugged him tightly. "You are pretty amazing."

He laughed like he was denying it in his head, but he was a pretty incredible guy. There was so much she wanted to know about him, but what she knew already had her hooked. "Would you like to sleep here tonight?" she asked shyly.

"Here, as in?"

"Here, with me. Though if you start talking my ear off in your sleep again, you may be banished to the floor."

"I would love it," he smiled, and kissed her again, an innocent kiss, to let her know he understood that she didn't expect to be groped in the middle of the night. Together they curled up in bed, and slept, and Sam did not dream.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Kaena yawned and drooped over Luke's file cabinet. Her eyes felt itchy and words were beginning to blur before her eyes. Luke walked into the room and sat down at his desk, passing her without comment and jotting something down on a piece of scrap paper. He reached toward the file cabinet and started.

"Kaena!" he cried, clutching his chest. "Are you all right?"

"Ughalksndf," she groaned.

"Late night?" he leaned back in the swivel chair, tapping his fingers gently on his desk.

"We went to bed really early, but we kept getting these weird calls. It just sounded like somebody breathing on the other end, and I disconnected the land line but then he or she started calling our cells! We turned them off, but we were both awake by that point."

"Creepy! What did the caller ID say?"

"Unknown, of course."

He looked thoughtful. "Well, it was probably just some jerk cranking you, or Vinny rolling around on his cell phone or something."

"It would have shown as Vinny if it had been him, though," she pushed her long hair out of her face and sat back in her chair. "It was really aggravating."

"Why are you here, anyway? I didn't need you today—not that you're not welcome, but you look exhausted."

"Thanks," she hoped the dryness in her voice conveyed how flattering she found that.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't know, I just needed to get out, to do some mindless repetitive tasks to clear my head. I've been having these strange dreams lately, and don't know what to make of them. Have you heard about Marsden at all? Is he regaining his memories or . . .?"

"I've kept tabs on him," Luke admitted. "Even though he was kind of a horse's ass, he was my advisee, and I felt bad for him. He was always very troubled."

"Really, I found him mostly troubling," she thought her voice was about as dry as the Sahara by now, but she couldn't help it. "And so?"

"Well, you know we dropped him off at the hospital, but he had no family. I made sure he was identified, and he has a small inheritance that he's been living off of. We have met a few times to talk. He doesn't remember me, or anything about his life, really. As far as he's concerned, he woke up one day without a past, and that's probably for the better, considering how much his past had haunted him. I told him some small details—he lost his family, he was a student and has his MA, and he decided to take some time for therapy and rehab in hopes that things will come back."

"And the doctors say?"

"The energy surge that they believe caused the damage very thoroughly wiped out specific neurons in his cortex. In other words, the places where memories were stored. But he can remember how to drive a car and play the piano. They don't think there's much hope of recovery. His ability to form new memories is perfectly intact."

"Energy surge?"

"Whatever you, or . . . the other presence did through you, it destroyed neural tissue, miraculously leaving a functioning human being. The doctors think it was a freak accident like a serious seizure or a sudden surge of energy. He obviously doesn't remember what happened, and I told them I just found him that way," Luke explained.

"Do you think he's the seventh seishi?" she questioned thoughtfully. He hadn't felt like her seishi, but she was undoubtedly short one, and maybe things would be different now. "Do you think I could see him?"

"I can't tell you if he's one of us. I thought so, but what do I know? Only you can tell for sure, certainly. But as it happens, I was planning to stop by the hospital to see him this afternoon. He's in long-term care since he's still so vague on things. It's weird; he's entirely intact in all his abilities—reading, writing, but, well, anyway. You can come along if you want. Is there any other reason you want to see him?"

"No, not really. Not particularly," Kaena hedged, and he was watching her little dance with amusement. Damn her psychic seishi for being annoyingly perceptive. She didn't really want to spill the beans on this, but she remembered about as much of what had happened that night as Marsden, at least after a certain point, and she had never quite trusted that she hadn't killed him. She hadn't seen him since. The others had urged her it would be a bad idea, that it might trigger a memory and turn him into a lunatic again. But if his memory loss was as complete as it sounded, that wasn't likely. "I never liked him."

"Tell me how you really feel."

"But I did get to know him, and I think that if he hadn't been overcome by such anger at circumstances that were outside of anybody's control, he might have been an okay guy."

"He is an okay guy, now," Luke affirmed. "And so you want to know him as he is now?"

"I want to know that he's going to be okay."

An expression of understanding overcame Luke's pleasant features, and his wonder turned into a slow smile. "You are a truly magnanimous goddess."

"I'm no goddess," she shook her head. "But I guess even I'm not immune from caring about people that I spent time with."

Luke smiled and went back to work. Kaena passed the remainder of the afternoon by filing and cataloguing, and when quitting time came, she was quite ready for it. She had no idea what mysterious moron could have been calling them so persistently last night, but she swore on everything holy that there would be hell to pay if she didn't get a good night's sleep tonight. For now, however, she would jolt herself with some coffee on her way over to see Marsden.

She called Taka on the ride over, letting him know she'd be late. She found herself reluctant to tell him where she was going, so she just said she would be late. She was apprehensive about the visit, and didn't know why. It wasn't like he was any threat to her now. True, he had almost raped and murdered her, but he had had an unfair advantage. For now, she doubted he even knew how to use those magical skills. Or did he?

They pulled into the visitor parking for the hospital, and headed for the entrance. Luke seemed fairly acquainted with the twisting corridors. How often had he been here? A few times, at least, she gathered. He led them up to the sixth floor, which was an ambiguously named rehabilitation ward. They wandered through casually, and Luke smiled at a few people he seemingly recognized. Most of the people seemed to have suffered serious physical injury. There was a man in a full body cast in one bed, and a girl sitting in a wheelchair—she was missing both legs below the knee, recently, judging by the bandages.

They turned around the corner and approached a corridor of private rooms. Luke knocked on a door, and a familiar voice wafted pleasantly from behind the door, urging them to step inside. "Hi, Luke. I'm glad you came. Oh!" he exclaimed, then frowned.

Kaena frowned back. He looked exactly as he had the last time she'd seen him conscious, with puppyish brown eyes and neatly combed dark hair. He was looking at her with some expectation. "Hello, Marsden."

"Do I know you? I feel like I should know you, but . . ." frustration overcame him and he sat down on the bed. It was for the first time that she noticed he was wearing hospital issue pajamas and slippers. No belt or shoelaces for him. Did they think he was a danger to himself?

"My name is Kaena. We were, uh, we knew each other before your, hm, accident."

"We weren't engaged, were we?" he didn't look terribly upset at the prospect. He pointed to the ring on her finger. "No, you'd never be with a guy like me."

"Like what?" she asked curiously.

"Well, Luke tells me that I was kind of an asshole," he shrugged.

She almost blurted out something about Luke being spot on, but refrained. This quiet, friendly man was different than the egotistical, aggressive man she had known. "I'm engaged to a man named Taka. But I wanted to talk to you. You don't remember anything about your life before, do you? What has Luke told you?"

"Pretty much that. I was kind of a jerk, but I was a good student and was on my way to a Ph.D. He brought my notes on my dissertation, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it," he sighed, looking at the notebook sitting on a little writing desk. "I mean, I could read it and everything, but it just looked like buzz words to me. Did it make sense to you?"

"Well, yes, but we'd discussed it quite a bit, and I was the one who taught you the buzzwords."

"He said my family is dead, and I met with an accident while doing something quite awful, but he would never tell me what."

Kaena stood stiffly. He was so different. His ignorance was a mercy in some ways, but intolerable in others. She could tell that, try as he might, he could not understand. And yet, wouldn't telling him of what had happened at this point make no difference to who he had become? The feelings of the past memories had been, presumably, irrevocably lost, so if the hate and anger was gone, and he could only learn from the consequences by logic, would he be better off?

She sat down on the bed next to him, and looked into his confused, brown eyes.

"This is a bit like torture, isn't it?"

"I don't know. If I was as big a jackass as Luke says, maybe I'm better off not knowing," he sighed. "But I would like to know what fool thing I did that got me here."

"First, answer me this. Have you noticed that you can do anything . . . unusual?"

"Kaena," Luke held up his hand. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

She raised her hand to shush him, and he was quelled.

"Unusual how?" Marsden looked at his beslippered foot. Was it her imagination, or did he look quite shifty? He tapped his fingers on this thighs.

"Anything like this," she allowed her aura to swell around her. Marsden backed up until he was against the wall. Kaena let her aura fade away, and examined him calmly. After he got over the initial shock of it, he looked at his slippers once again.

"I noticed . . . this was a complete accident, I swear, and I stopped as soon as I realized I was doing it, but one day one of the pretty nurses came in, and I was looking at her thinking that it would be nice if she would turn around and kiss me, and she DID. But there was something wrong. It was really mechanical and weird, and she was staring at me with these wide eyes, totally baffled. I pushed her away and something sort of drew back into her. It looked kind of like what you had around you just now, but it was more translucent. It just went back into her and she looked really confused and ran out. I really didn't mean to make her!"

"It's okay, you stopped when you realized," Luke said. "That's what counts."

"What did I do to her?"

"The same thing you did to me the night you lost your memory," she sighed. "It started a very long time ago . . ." Kaena explained to him about his past life, and how he had died at the hands of her father's previous incarnation, and how he had begun to regain the memories as a young boy, and how he came to hate her father when he realized he had been reborn. She explained how they had been in the program together, and how he had feigned friendship with her, had joined their little band of warriors, and had eventually kidnapped her in order to exact revenge on her father. "My particular magical abilities are strange, but one of them is that I can allow, well, you might think of her as God, to come through me. After what you had done, She wanted to put a stop to your suffering and keep you from hurting anybody again, so She took your memories. I don't remember this part, mind you, but that's what they tell me. After it was over, we took you to the hospital, and that was that."

Throughout her tale, Marsden had scooted farther from her, and was now plastered against the wall. He looked at Luke for confirmation of this insane story, and when he only shrugged and nodded, Marsden raked his fingers through his hair and swore. "Shit."

"I am sorry you lost your memories," she said softly, hoping he didn't pick up on the guilt she felt. Maybe if she had realized sooner . . . no, there was nothing she could have done.

"It sounds like I got off easy if that was all I lost," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't . . ." he looked down, and she realized she hadn't said if he had completed his attempted rape.

"No, you didn't," she said. "Or trust me, you wouldn't be here right now. Wild horses couldn't have kept Taka, my fiancé, from you."

"I'm sorry. It sounds so insufficient."

"I didn't come here to get your apology. I thought that you might be one of my warriors. There are six of them, but there should be seven. But I don't think you're him. You do have some power, though. With proper training, you could even be useful in battle."

"I think I've had enough battles for two lifetimes," he slumped over his own knees.

"We should go," Kaena said, moving for the door. Silently, Luke followed.

"If you didn't want an apology," he said. "Why did you tell me all of that? Surely you could tell that I wasn't one of them without telling me all of that."

Kaena considered. In Her way, the Creator had been merciful with him, but Kaena had her own brand of mercy. "You deserved to know what your crime had been. And now you know what mistakes not to repeat."

Emotion flooded his face, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. Finally, he gave her what she figured to be the closest thing to a smile he could muster. It was more like a painful grimace. "I can't say I'm happy to know, but I think I'd rather know than not, so thank you. Will you visit me again?"

"I'll be back next week," Luke assured him.

"If you like," she nodded.

"I would, very much."

Kaena gave him another short nod, and half a smile, and they left. She couldn't bring herself to speak all the way back to her apartment. Luke didn't press her, and she was grateful. Her head bubbled with too many thoughts to organize at the moment. She thanked Luke for taking her, and headed into her condo, hoping Taka would just hold her for a while.

Nobody was home when she entered, so she put down her things, and went to her bedroom. Kaena pulled off her top, thinking to change and take a quick run before Taka returned, and as she wandered into the bathroom to put the dirty shirt in the hamper, she noticed a pair of black stockings hanging over the back of the toilet. They were most certainly not hers, and they were too small to be her mother's. She frowned. Just then, the phone began to ring.

...

Sam clearly saw the University of Chicago's religion department, and empty corridors. He was aware that he was dreaming, but had no control. A tall woman with long, blonde hair walked slowly through the hallways, not rushed, but not cautious, or at least not cautious enough. Ahead, Sam saw a shadow with a supernatural glow, and screamed silently, running toward the woman, but he was entrapped in a glass box. He pounded on the walls, screaming into a vacuum, and she turned the corner, disappearing into the shadows. He woke up panting. He rolled over and saw Rowan sleeping soundly beside him. He slumped against the bed, soaked in sweat, and quietly got up to clear his head. He rooted silently for his pen and pencil, but couldn't find it. He would just commit it to memory: woman in a corridor in a school. Or was it a hospital? She had had blonde hair, of that much he was certain. The dream was fading, as was his panic. Maybe it was nothing. Ha, wouldn't that be different: a dream that was just a dream!

Sam splashed his face and tried his sweat soaked torso, peeking out around the bathroom door to make sure he hadn't woken Rowan. She turned slightly, sprawling into the space he'd been occupying, but didn't rouse. He slipped back into bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her, hoping the trembling of his hands didn't disturb her. It had been a woman, in a corridor, or a tunnel . . . Sam couldn't remember, and soon sleep overtook him again.

He awoke in the morning, refreshed, but feeling as if he had forgotten something important. Rowan was already in the shower, and he made a point to sit facing away from the door, in case she should pop out again. Although he was perfectly content to see her naked, or touch her, or do any number of less than proper things to her, she would be mortified, and he didn't want to make her feel bad. She emerged more or less fully clothed, with dripping hair, and Sam was sure to kiss her on his way into the shower. She turned a remarkable and adorable shade of red. He smirked.

He searched his memory for the thing he had forgotten, but whatever it was, it was gone. He pushed it out of his mind and washed quickly. They were ready to leave shortly after, but Rowan's parents called just as they were on their way out.

"I'll meet you at the car," he said.

She nodded, and he heard a voice screech: "Who was that?!" as he turned the corner. Oops. Well, he hoped her parents would be understanding. And he hoped Rowan had the sense not to tell too much of the truth. Although knowing her, he doubted she was even capable of telling a lie. He groaned and leaned against the door of her car, looking over the edge of the parking garage and staring at the high rise buildings all around. Now this was a city. He had been to cities all over the Western half of the U.S., but none quite like Chicago.

Some people found large cities to be claustrophobia inducing, but Sam found it restful. All the tall buildings, and busy people, and the crisp air that had the vague aroma of mildew thanks to Lake Michigan and the Chicago River, which ran through downtown. He felt like he could call this place home, someday.

Rowan emerged a few minutes later, looking sheepish.

"What did you tell her?"

"That I went to Chicago with a friend that I met on my way home, and that it's very important but I'll be home in a few days."

"And she said?"

"Rowan Marie, get your backside back to this house YESTERDAY! I guess they expected me earlier. It wasn't my fault, though, and I would probably be dead if it weren't for you!"

"What did you say about me?"

"I said I made a friend named Sam, who needed to go to Chicago for some very important business. All true. She seemed to think that Sam was a girl, however, and I might have implied that there was a TV on and that was the male voice she heard. Well, it could have been!"

He laughed. "You're too honest for your own good."

She sighed. "I guess so. All right, where are we going?"

"I'm not sure. If only I knew her name, or something . . . all I know is that she's a beautiful blonde." With long hair. He blinked, unsure where the thought had intruded from. A dream? "But I really don't know much beyond that. I wish she'd been wearing a name tag."

She laughed nervously. "That would help. Well, when I read my Bible and I don't know what to read to find what I need to know, sometimes I just open my Bible to whatever page I get to first and read that."

"So you're saying we should pick a direction and go that way."

Rowan nodded. He laughed, glad he was able to follow her logic. She moved for the car, then thought better of it. "Maybe we should walk. If we're going to bump into people, wouldn't it be better on foot? We can cover more ground in the car, but we might miss somebody. I just get the feeling . . ."

"Yeah, me too. Besides, driving downtown would suck. Let's do it."

So they walked, and chatted, and held hands, and walked more. They strolled past the Sears Towers, and NBC studios, and a dozen other sights of interest. They stopped for lunch at a place called Giordano's. "If we stay here, we'll probably run into the others. This is some serious pizza. I don't see how people who live here refrain from eating it every day."

Rowan looked a little green, and burped daintily. "It's so greasy."

They continued on after lunch, and headed toward Hyde Park. It was hot outside, and Sam felt bad for Rowan's slowly burning skin. Sam was already pretty tan from his time outside, but her pale skin was obviously not used to such intense sunlight. They stopped in a touristy shop for a hat, which seemed to help a bit. Around six, they were about to give up hope for the day when a man walked up to Sam and glowered at him. "You lazy bum."

Sam frowned. "Who the hell . . ."

The man took off his sunglasses, and Sam swore.

"Sam?" Rowan asked, drawing attention to herself. The man sneered at her, and she shrank behind him. Anger flooded Sam, and his whole body became rigid, drawing himself up to his full, considerable height. He took Rowan's arm protectively.

"Hello, dad. So nice to see you again."

"Dad?" she murmured.

"Catch up, sweetheart," the man's gravelly voice was gruff and intimidating, and she bowed under her hat.

"Don't talk to her like that, you pompous ass," he growled. He felt like a dog with its hackles up, and tried to reign it in. "What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Idaho?"

His father's right hand touched his left, and Sam followed the motion. He wasn't wearing his wedding ring. "None of your damn business. What are you doing here? Who's the chubby girl?"

He felt Rowan's body stiffen, then slump into itself at the comment, and he nearly exploded. "If you say one more rude word to or about her, I'm going to hold your head in that fountain until you stop moving."

Sam must have sounded serious, because his father grunted and shrugged. "Your mother left me. Said I was a cranky old bastard and that she hated me for driving you out. I'm better off. Bat shit crazy woman, she was."

"God, Sam," Rowan murmured. "You weren't kidding."

"What, when I said he was a winner?" he barked a laugh. "Yeah, my dad's a class act. So what are you doing here, in this city of all cities?"

"Business. They moved me out here after the ball and chain detached herself from my ankle. What the hell are you doing? I think the last journal you sent the bitch was from Boulder, if I'm not mistaken."

He stiffened. "You didn't take them."

"What would I want with a bunch of dreams and shit? Your mother has them, somewhere."

He sighed with relief. "Well, I have no desire to see you, and since this is a city of about 2 million people, it should be easy to avoid you. Goodbye." Sam stormed passed the man, and Rowan followed, gripping his hand with vice-like pressure.

"Are you still faking your little seizures?"

He sputtered.

Rowan whirled around, throwing her hat to the ground. "Listen, you horrible old man! Sam is a sweet, kind, gentle man, and he would never be so petty as to fake something like his, his episodes! Maybe if you would take your head out of your ass for a half a minute, you would realize that your wife left you because you're a bitter old prune. I've known you for about two minutes and I can't stand your presence. It just goes to show what a patient person Sam is that he could stand you for seventeen years!"

Sam bent down to pick up the hat, tipped it at his father, and followed Rowan, who had stormed off into the park. He couldn't believe the nerve of that bastard to insult her like that, and then accuse him of faking once again. He was used to it, but the fact that he was so snide and condescending to Rowan made his blood boil.

He found her sitting on the edge of a fountain crying. He slid onto the lip of the fountain beside her and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry. I had no idea he was here."

"I'm sure, or you wouldn't have gotten within a hundred miles of him," she sobbed.

"What's wrong? You were wonderful. You defended my honor beautifully."

She shook her head and hid it against his chest. He thought of what she had said about that Grant character telling her she was fat, and understood her tears. "You can't listen to him. He's just a bitter old man, like you said. He holds people to impossible standards. You're not chubby. You're beautiful."

"I am chubby, don't lie to me," she sobbed, pushing him away. "I'm not blind."

He sighed. "Okay, you are chubby, but Rowan, that doesn't change the fact that you're beautiful. I find you to be cute and sexy and endearing. You're you, and that's beautiful."

"Why do they have to reduce me to insults that tear me apart?" she hid her face.

"Because that's what abusive assholes do. They figure out the thing you're sensitive about and take advantage of it, because they're weak, and they want to make you feel weaker so they can control you. Don't let my father get into your head. He's not worth it. Who cares with that miserable goat thinks? He's alone and nobody likes him."

Her sobs slowed, and then came to a stop. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be wailing when you're the one who had to see that insufferable, horrible, miserable excuse for a human being. I can't believe you lived with him for so long."

He shrugged his shoulders. It didn't bother him so much anymore. Sam knew there would always be a hole in his heart where his father's love should have been, but he had patched it over with the kindness of his mother and a few others who had been good to him. Would he be happy to get his father's approval? Of course. Would he hold his breath? No way in hell. "Don't worry about it."

The sun was hanging low on the horizon, and the gold dancing along the edges of the skyscrapers entranced Sam. He could have sworn he saw bright, blue eyes peering from between the windows. He blinked, and the illusion was gone. But he had seen her there, a woman with long, blonde hair swinging behind her as she passed through a dim hallway. "At the University of Chicago!"

"What about it?"

"I dreamed her, this morning. She's going to be in danger. Soon, I think. We have to get over there!" he hopped up, and Rowan followed.

He pulled out the map in his pocket, and Rowan pulled out her cell phone. "We're not far," she said. "Less than a mile. Come on, let's go."

"There's a bus line there," he pointed out.

"Cab will be faster," she raised her arm to flag one down. A gruff man pulled over for them, and they hopped inside. "Take us to the University of Chicago."

"The religion department, if you know where that is," he said.

The man grunted and didn't indicate either way, but they were off, and were turning into the campus about three minutes later. He dropped them in the middle of the campus, and Rowan paid the man. He drove off without hesitation.

"Where's the building?" he looked around, and caught a student rushing somewhere. "Excuse me, where's the religion department."

The guy looked at him quizzically and pulled out his headphones. "What?"

"The religion department. Where is it?"

The guy pointed glumly at a big, blocky building that was not the most attractive building on campus. They rushed over. The sun was still hanging low on the horizon, but was now being engulfed by the skyline. He imagined it would be fairly dim inside without the lights on. They rushed inside and took the elevator up to the 5th floor, impatiently tapping their feet as they traveled up.

"Are you sure you'll find her here?" Rowan questioned. "It looks like everybody's packed up for the day. It is after business hours."

"Grad students never sleep. I imagine."

Sure enough, there were a few people in their offices wildly typing or scratching on paper, but the hall lights were off save for the lights near the elevator. It looked like there were some workers doing something with the wiring. He glanced at a female worker, who looked like her jumpsuit had been painted on. She had long, wild hair, but it wasn't blonde.

"See anything you like?" Rowan raised an eyebrow, but he could tell there was pain underneath the question. He shook his head.

"Nope. Not until I looked at you, anyway," he smiled charmingly. They wandered through the halls, poking into offices occasionally, but found nothing. The last few students filed out and headed down the stairs, leaving them alone, but for the work crew. "Maybe I remembered wrong. But I was so sure. It felt so right."

"Wait," Rowan pointed ahead. He saw the flick of golden hair disappear around the corner, and ran to follow, but by the time they got there, there was no one to be seen. A pair of locked double doors apparently led to interior hallways, but he couldn't open them. He knocked on the doors softly, then louder, but got no reply. He pressed his face to the glass panes to look inside, and saw her there, looking back and forth in confusion. She took out her phone and glanced at it.

"Oh my God," Rowan gasped, face against the glass next to his. "Look at the walls!"

The walls were glowing the sickly red of a blood moon, and the shadows were moving despite the woman's stillness. He pounded the glass, but she couldn't hear. The shape of the shadows was vaguely female, but taloned claws were reaching out, stretching across the woman's own shadow. Suddenly a brilliant violet aura came to life around her, and she struggled, but the shadows were pressing in on her, choking her. He pounded the glass, then noticed the fire extinguisher on the wall nearby. He chucked it through the glass and dove through the open hole, scrambling inside. He didn't know what he would do, if a woman with such power could do nothing, but his appearance seemed to startle the shadow creature, and the blonde haired woman's energy exploded down the hall, lighting the room and breaking glass on every door in the corridor.

The hall lights flicked on, and the blonde woman slid to her feet. Rowan was just scrambling through the hole, and Sam knelt down in front of the woman. She recoiled from him, gasping and fighting.

"I'm on your side!" he cried. "Are you all right?"

Silvery blue eyes like glaciers flashed toward him, and he gasped. Something snapped into place within him like he had never been quite whole before this moment. It wasn't an attraction, though she was certainly a beautiful woman, but more like some kind of bond that he hadn't even known existed until that moment. She clearly felt something similar, because she relaxed into his grip. Rowan knelt down beside them.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sam," she said. "This is Rowan. I had . . . well, I had a vision that I would find you here. I think that I'm your warrior. Your seventh warrior."

"I've been waiting for you," she said softly, and then she fainted.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Her eyes opened suddenly, as if she'd been switched back on, and she looked around. She didn't look any worse for wear, but there was a tension in her long, graceful limbs that made her seem sore and stiff. She shifted and sat up. Her eyes landed on her father's cold, creepily similar face and she relaxed. Her fiancé looked worried, and put his arms around her. She pushed him away gently and climbed to her feet.

"Papa, Taka, how did you get here?"

"I got a most interesting phone call a few minutes ago, and rushed over."

Sam cleared his throat. "After you passed out, Rowan thought we should call somebody you know, so we looked in your cell phone and dialed the last number you'd called and the first parent that we ran across. These are the two we got."

Her father looked cool and collected, but Sam sensed an underlying gratitude. He hadn't had time to explain what had happened, but the man seemed to know that if he and Rowan hadn't been here, things might have been much worse. Her fiancé, a good looking man with dark hair and greenish blue eyes, seemed a little more apprehensive about the strangers.

"What happened?" her father asked.

Rowan and Kaena both started talking, but Rowan snapped her mouth shut. "I came home earlier," she glanced to her fiancé with a strange frown. "And got a phone call from a woman who said she was a friend of yours who was new to the department. She wanted me to show her around, and said she would only be in town for the day because she wasn't moving officially until August. Anyway, I came here because of that, but when I arrived, the lights were out, but I wanted to make sure she wasn't lost in the building somewhere, so I checked through the place. I was just about to call it quits when this shadow appeared and somehow began to suck the life out of me. It was like my life was being siphoned, and struggling only made it worse. Then these two showed up, and the thing lost its grip and I was able to struggle free. I must have fainted after that."

"So that begs the question," the man named Taka pinned Sam with a severe frown. "Who are you and how did you so conveniently happen to show up?"

"My name is Sam Bakersfield. This requires some explanation. Maybe we should go somewhere more comfortable? The lady is looking a little wilted," he nodded to the pretty blonde woman.

Taka stood up and put his arm behind her, probably to catch her if she fainted. She looked annoyed by this attention, oddly, and moved toward her father for support. Her fiancé looked confused and a little hurt, but her father only raised his brows.

"That sounds like a good idea," Kaena said. He handed her the pilfered cell phone, and together they trooped down the stairs and toward a small Toyota that was illegally parked in front of the building with a campus parking ticket slapped on the windshield. Somehow, they managed to squeeze, with Taka driving and the exhausted blonde woman in the front. Her father looked less than thrilled about folding his tall frame into the back seat, and poor Rowan was sandwiched in between his own greater-than-six-foot frame and the blonde man. She tried to scoot closer to Sam, but there wasn't much room to squish.

"Start talking," her father said.

Sam got the feeling that this was a man with which he would do well to avoid argument, so he started explaining his story from his earliest visions of Kaena and the impending doom and explaining how he'd been heading this way for over a year, as well as his meeting with Rowan and the dream this morning. He left out a fair bit in the interest of time, but they got the picture.

"So you're the last," Kaena said softly.

"If we're all gathered, do you think that means the time in your visions is close?"

"Judging by what happened this evening, I would say the time is here," her father said quietly. "Did you watch the evening news, Taka? A thousand killed in Ohio in a sudden flood."

"Where?" Rowan gasped, her hands imploringly touching the man's arm. He looked at her small hands for a moment before gently patting it. "Cleveland. The Cuyahoga River swelled the banks due to flash flooding and somehow the levees failed all at once."

Rowan sagged with relief. "My parents are in Ohio," she explained. "But in Cincinnati."

"You think these disasters are connected?" Sam asked.

"You tell me, psychic boy."

He didn't need to answer after that. Of course it was connected. He had dreamed of this for his entire life. The disasters, the mysterious women, and a band of six other powerful warriors and their friends. The sense of completion he had felt when he finally met his warrior mistress (_priestess_, his mind supplied) was accompanied by a sense of having pushed a big, green "Start" button. Had he brought this on them? No, this was set long before he set foot into the state of Illinois—maybe before he was even born. That thought chilled him.

"Who are you all?" Rowan asked shyly. "Are you all warriors?"

"Are, or were," the driver glanced back at the tall, blonde man, who gave him an utterly deadpan stare.

"It's a long story," Kaena's father said, and they made the rest of the trip to their destination in silence.

...

Rowan felt like she had been tenderized. She had been passed around among the variously visiting strangers to Kaena's condo, and then shuffled over to another condo, where Kaena's parents were staying. A tall, loud man named Vinny and an awkward young man named Andy had been sent to retrieve their things and her car from their hostel. Kaena's mother, whose name Rowan couldn't presently remember, had insisted they stay with them. They had three perfectly good bedrooms, and, she said, it wouldn't do to have a seishi and the girl who helped him get here sleeping in some dumpy hostel. What would her parents say?

Rowan admitted that her parents wouldn't have been happy to know where they had been staying, and that Sam had been sharing her bed, so they allowed themselves to be warmly welcomed by the little Japanese woman. Sam was in the next bedroom, and it was two in the morning. Rowan still couldn't sleep. This was insane. This was all crazy, and so was she, if she really thought about it, but she seemed to be here in the house of two people who had apparently been quite the adventurers in their youth, and as far as she could tell, none of it had been imagined; not even the horrible monster that had attacked Kaena before their eyes.

She shuddered, thinking of the evil thing, and finally made the decision to get some air. She couldn't lay in bed like this while there were monsters crawling the city and people were dying in record numbers. Rowan stepped into the hallway, and tiptoed toward the living room, hoping to slip out onto the balcony. She ran directly into Kaena's father, and nearly bounced off of him and into the wall, but his strong hands caught her shoulders.

"Sorry," she whispered. This man was intimidating as hell. "Did I wake you?"

"One would have to have been sleeping to be awoken," he released her, and stepped aside.

"I was just going to step onto the balcony," she said. "If that's okay."

"I'll join you," he said, and ushered her ahead. Rowan shuffled toward the beautiful glass doors and stepped into the cool, night air. From here, she could see almost as far as Michigan, she fancied. It was a lovely, clear night. Kaena's father, who was tall, and extremely handsome, leaned against the railing. His face was lined from age and, she thought, pain, and his sharp blue eyes, where ever it was they looked, gazed far beyond the shores of Michigan.

"What did you say your name was?" she asked quietly, watching his expression carefully. He didn't make a lot of expression, she noticed. That was part of what gave him such an intimidating feel.

"I didn't. You may call me Nakago," he said. "And you are Rowan Howyll from Cincinnati, Ohio."

"Um, yes. Sir."

A pained kind of grimace flashed over his face before he schooled it again. She looked away worriedly. "Sorry. I call everybody sir or ma'am when I'm nervous."

"Do I make you nervous?" he was hiding a grin now, and she flushed.

"No, it's just, um, the strange circumstances, and that monster, and, um . . . yes?"

He laughed at her ridiculous mumbling; a soft, deep rumble, but there was no malevolence behind it. She allowed herself to smile, and her smile made the harsh lines on his face soften slightly.

"How did you end up getting dragged into this?" Nakago inquired. "All the others, I can place their role somewhat. But not you. You don't have any power to speak of."

"I have no idea. I'm just here for the ride, I guess. I basically have no use, aside from making Sam feel bad for me," she sighed, then realized how much she had said to this perceptive man. He studied her for a long time before speaking again.

"You remind me of my wife," he said quietly. "When we were young, well, when she was young, anyway, she used to have some funny ideas about her own worth. And she hid herself quite a bit. She was always smiling and acting like she was happy, even when her heart was breaking. You hide behind a quiet manner."

"How do you know?" she questioned softly, not looking at him.

"Because I saw the sharp comments you bit back this evening, and I know the type. When you've seen as many lives as me, you learn to read people."

"So what's your excuse?" she immediately regretted her sharp tone.

He chuckled. "What did I tell you? And my excuse is being a miserable old man. Don't you know you're entitled to be as grumpy as you want when you're old?"

"I somehow doubt the affectation is a recent addition," her lip twitched into a grin. He laughed outright. "There are some things women can tell."

"So then, what are you hiding from? Take it from a master of hiding—it rarely works out, in the end. And that pup who was drooling all over you isn't going to put up with a facade forever."

"Nothing," she said quietly, clamming up. How could he possibly understand how worthless she felt as of late? How could he get it? How could anybody understand what it was like to feel like you didn't deserve any happiness you found, like it was an accident and would be taken away? How could a man like him understand the guilt of failure, when he had clearly never failed in his life? How could he know the dirtiness of moral, spiritual, and physical compromise? "I should go to bed. I appreciate your hospitality."

He watched her go inside until the patio door slid shut again, and then he returned his eyes to the dark lake. She watched him, silently staring as if he were looking a million miles away, or maybe a million years, and thought that perhaps these people could understand.

...

Taka plopped down on the couch and stretched. Kaena was busying herself with something in the kitchen and making a lot of noise doing so. She seemed a little agitated, but that was no small wonder, considering what had happened earlier. He was just glad that Sam and Rowan had been there to lend a hand. From his understanding, they didn't actually do anything, but their presence was enough to distract the attacker, and that was all Kaena needed. Taka wasn't quite sure what to make of the newcomers. Rowan had no power to speak of, but he liked her nonetheless, and felt like she was of some importance. Sam . . . well, perhaps he felt a little threatened by the man's rugged good looks and gallant rescue. The others, who he gathered had been called by Miaka, had seemed quite enthralled by him. It didn't help that Kaena had been less than warm with him this evening.

After about the twentieth loud crash originating in the kitchen, Taka got up to investigate. Kaena was squatting with her head inside one of the large cupboards under the counter. She was either looking for a very specific pan, rearranging the pots and pans, or learning to play the drums on them. He tapped her shoulder and she jumped, hitting her head on the underside of the counter.

"Anything I can help with?"

"No. Go away," she growled, rubbing her head and returning to her task.

"Are you all right? You seem, um," he was going to say "rattled" but that was an understatement. "Pissed."

"Taka, please just let me work out my aggression on these pans before I turn it on you."

Taking the hint, Taka backed out of the room and headed for the bedroom. Kaena was no more emotional than the next person, but she was female, and occasionally became a little more emotional or inexplicably annoyed, but at least had the presence of mind to warn him. He figured this was one of those times, except usually she wanted to be around him when she was feeling off. He tossed his shirt into the hamper, and began kicking off his pants when he noticed the pair of black pantyhose draped over the back of the toilet. He picked them up, letting a mental image of his long-legged goddess in the silky stockings standing over him with a riding crop. His little fantasy bubble burst when he looked at the size. They were about the same size as hers, but looked way too short. He wasn't an expert on pantyhose, and knew that they magically seemed to stretch, but these were labeled "petite." He would certainly not have described his 5'9" fiancée as petite.

"Kaena," he called, looking at the tag on the hose. "Did you buy the wrong size of these pantyhose? What are they doing on the toilet?"

Taka ventured into the kitchen, still holding the silk stockings. Kaena was facing the counter. "I was hoping you could tell me whose they were."

"Why would I know? I don't buy pantyhose. Maybe Miaka left them?" he questioned, then glanced at the size—a U.S. size 4, which was probably not Miaka's size anymore.

"Taka," she turned to him, expression unreadable. She looked a little sick to her stomach, and very angry. Her expression changed to hope, then back to anger. "Whose are they?"

"I told you, I don't—wait. You don't think I'm cheating on you, do you? Are you joking?" he would have laughed if he had been a man with less sense. "I have no idea whose they are, and do you think that even if I didn't love you, which I do, that I'd be stupid enough to cheat on you, the daughter of Nakago and Miaka, in your house? Give me a little credit."

"So you've thought about where you'd cheat?" she frowned.

"Kaena," he said reproachfully.

"I know! Ugh. But what am I supposed to think?"

"I think you're supposed to give me the benefit of the doubt," he set the hose down on the counter and walked toward her, taking her hands. "I'm not an idiot. You agree with that, don't you?"

She mumbled something under her breath that sounded a lot like 'most men are' but nodded.

"And you agree that only an idiot would cheat on you, especially in your apartment, and that only a moron would be stupid enough to leave such obvious evidence. Right?"

"I suppose so."

"So then the only logical conclusion is that one of the eight hundred people traipsing in and out of here the last few days must have left them. Maybe they're Kajri's or Kaberi's."

Taka could see Kaena working through the possibilities, and her frown deepened, but eventually she sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry, it was stupid."

"I probably would have assumed the same, but trust me when I tell you, I waited half my life for you—I'm not about to screw it up with some floozy. Besides, you're probably better in bed, and I know you're more beautiful than some short girl who wears black pantyhose!"

"I thought you liked short girls," she looked straight into his eye—actually, she looked slightly down, because she was wearing low heels. "Mom is short."

"I like tall girls now," he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. "Everything is at a much better level. Like your neck," he kissed her graceful throat. "And your shoulders," his mouth trailed down, and he brushed her blonde locks aside. "And your breasts," he reached up under her shirt, and she sighed softly. He grinned up at her devilishly, and swept her off her feet. She squeaked indignantly and wrapped her arms around his neck, feigning to choke him, or maybe not feigning so much.

"Air," he wheezed as he set her down. "It's easier to carry you if you don't strangle me."

"Just trying to give you a good workout," she smiled. "I'm sorry I thought you'd be stupid enough to cheat on me. I know you're not stupid. And because of that, I know you know that I'd kill you, if my father didn't get to you first."

"I have no doubt," he captured her mouth, effectively stifling whatever veiled threats were about to be loosed upon him, and after a while, Kaena didn't have much to say at all . . .

...

Luke paced. He had a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. After Miaka, level-headed woman that she was, had called him to let him know that something had happened with Kaena. Apparently, her husband had taken off without her, but she had not wanted to sit idly by, so she called him. After ascertaining that she was all right, he had spread the word to the others to be on the alert for strange occurrences, but he was seriously disconcerted. He glanced around his apartment, feeling on edge, like something evil would pop out of the shadows at any moment.

The place looked like it had been torn out of an Ikea catalogue page, probably because everything he owned was from Ikea. Luke wasn't one of those people who liked to have ancient artifacts and dusty old books sitting around his house. Those things were better left in a museum to be studied and shared. But he did like a modern, streamlined look, and at least the design of his studio apartment was open enough not to leave dark corners in which his imaginary monsters could hide.

He flicked his power around the perimeter of his apartment, and his dog Sid (short for Sidhartha), a brown and white mutt with a blocky head like a pit bull, glanced up from his dog bed. Sid was used to his weird magical experiments, and had even helped him by allowing him to practice his telekinesis on his dog toys. Sid was a strange dog with a strange sense about people. He had been abandoned by the side of the road at six months old, probably a fighting dog that refused to fight, and Luke had felt an immediate connection with him at the shelter. He was intelligent, and very discerning with who he liked. Oh, he was polite to everybody, but some people got to pet him, and others did not. As it turned out, Luke didn't like the people Sid wasn't a fan of much either.

"It's okay," he said to Sid. "I don't know why I'm so wound up. I think I'm just anxious. Sam's appearance is just another omen, and I don't feel like we're ready for this. Whatever this is!"

Sid was not much of a talker, but he did woof in apparent sympathy before laying his head back down and peering over the edge of his bed with golden-brown eyes. Luke took off his glasses and flopped down on the couch. He jumped to his feet when he heard a quiet scraping coming from his only exterior window, which was a large, sliding glass door. He looked to Sid, who had hopped to his feet and was snarling, hackles raised.

Luke motioned for him to sit and stay, which he did, while he prowled forward and flipped on the patio light. He was on the ground floor, so it wasn't terribly unusual for a raccoon or some other lost creature to make its way to his patio, but he was facing an alley that didn't have any outlet, so it wasn't an every day occurrence. He didn't see anything out the window. Sid was still quietly growling. Luke opened the door and peered around.

"Hello?" he called.

Something darted toward his face with lightning speed, and he cried out and flung up his arms to protect himself, too startled to react with magic. The thing was clawing and scraping at his arms, and he shouted and struggled with it. He tripped over his low coffee table and crashed to the floor between it and the couch, wedged, and fighting the thing with all his might, but it felt like it had supernatural strength. He felt claws sink into his scalp, and screamed in pain as it bit his nose and eyes. Suddenly, a whir of brown and white passed across his vision, and the thing was off of him. He touched his bleeding face and examined his hands before shifting his attention to Sid, who had pinned the thing by the throat and was looking at him as if he wanted permission to rip it apart. It looked like a large badger, but the thing had unnatural blood red eyes, and hissed murderously at him as he approached. He grabbed Sid's traveling crate and slammed it down over the beast, and Sid released it as he slammed the door shut on it. He stood there, staring at the thing and panting, at a loss for what to do. He had just been attacked by a wild animal. The sliding door was still hanging open, so he went over and shut it. Then he stood a safe distance from the crate and watched the animal twist and scream in oddly human sounding frustration.

"Good boy," he patted Sid on the head. "Really, really good boy."

Sid jumped up and tried to lick his bleeding hands. He should do something about this. He went to the sink and washed off—his face was a mess, with great red scratches across his forehead and nose, and blood in his hair. He called Andy for reinforcement, but he didn't answer, so he called Kajri instead. She picked up on the fourth ring.

"Luke?" her gentle, melodic voice sounded a bit strained. "What's up?"

"I was attacked by a weird animal. I was hoping one of you could come and take a look at the thing to see what you think I should do with it. I sense some sort of power or," his eyes flicked to the crate. "I did before. It's gone now, I guess."

"You captured it? Are you all right?"

"I'm a bit scraped, but Sid defended my honor beautifully. Can you come over?"

Kajri hesitated. "Andy was attacked, too, by a mugger. He's in the hospital. Kaberi is with him, so I can come over."

"Oh, no, why don't I meet you there? I should probably get a rabies shot," he said thoughtfully.

"I'll come over and help you with the animal, then we can ascertain what the next step would be. I'll be over in ten minutes."

"Kajri, be careful," he said worriedly and hung up. He dialed Vinny's number. "Vinny?"

"Hey, man, what's happening?"

"Is everything all right there?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Yes? I'm, uh, kind of busy here, my man. Can I call you back?"

In the background, Luke could hear a woman's voice asking who was on the phone. He sighed and shook his head. "It's nothing. Be safe, all right?"

"Hey, I always carry protection—oh, you mean from, uh," he lowered his voice, "supernatural things. Yeah, it's cool, I'm inside. Talk to you later."

Vinny hung up, and Luke picked up the phone to dial Taka, but thought better of it. After the attack on Kaena earlier, they would doubtless want some time to unwind alone. Besides, it was almost midnight and they were most likely in bed. He paced the room again, but this time his face itched and his scalp felt like it was on fire. He rubbed his head absently. Sid seemed no worse for wear after his valiant rescue, but he was sitting at attention by the kennel, hackles up, lip curled back, staring at the reflective eyes that peered out at them. He had no idea what this attack had to do with the bigger picture, but he felt hunted. His heart thudded wildly, and he thought that if he were a dog, his hackles would be up, too. It didn't take long for Kajri to appear.

"Oh, my various gods," she said, a bad habit the Indian woman had picked up from watching too much Simpsons with Andy and Kaberi. She ran up to him and grabbed his hands, and suddenly his apprehension faded. Kajri was here. She was an executor like no other, and he knew she would handle whatever the issue was with style and flare. She was dressed in a flattering A-line denim skirt and a modest but fashion forward turquoise top. Her face was prettily flushed from her rush.

Kajri took his arm and led him to the bathroom.

"Don't you want to see the thing?"

"First, I want to see these cuts disinfected and bandaged," she said seriously, pushing him until he sat on the toilet. He could see his reflection in the mirror and sighed. His face had been not-bad looking, but the brilliant red scrapes would definitely not help his chances. She took his glasses off, and gazed at him with deep, brown eyes. Her cool hands touched his face.

"Oh dear," she sighed. "Tell me what happened."

And so he explained, while she rooted in his cabinets for peroxide and cotton balls, and dabbed the wounds gently, her competent hands touching his face professionally, fingers combing carefully through his hair to clean the wounds. She bandaged as he talked, and by the time he had finished, so had she.

"How does that feel?" she questioned, peering down at him.

"Better, thank you," he replied, feeling a little light headed. That was not necessarily because of the attack, however. He was noticing, for the first time, how lovely she was, and how her meticulous, quiet competence meshed with his own analytical approach to the world. "You weren't on a date, were you?"

She glanced down at her outfit and waved her hand. "He was a moron anyway. He tried to grope me under the table, and then didn't even offer to split the check!"

"Oaf," he said heartily. "I always pay on the first date, then split."

"And I doubt you would try to grope me," she flashed her lovely teeth.

"Well, maybe not on the first date," he grinned. The movement hurt, so he let his smile fade. "How's Andy?"

"He's all right. He has a broken arm and a nasty black eye, but he'll live. He was caught off guard by the guy. He didn't even have a weapon, and Andy took him for some punk kid, but then he started doing magic, and Andy was too slow. You know how Andy is. His power is so unpredictable."

"Did they get his wallet?"

"That was the weird thing. Some cops happened to drive by, and the man just dropped his wallet and ran. Andy flagged them down, and they drove him to the hospital. He was mostly upset that the attacker tore his favorite Rurouni Kenshin shirt."

"Poor guy," he said sympathetically, gazing up at her. She stared into his eyes sans glasses for a long moment, and reached out to his hair. Quite suddenly, she drew her hand back, looking embarrassed. Luke cleared his throat. "Shall we take a look at the beast?"

"Oh, yes," she hopped out of the room and gave Sid a scratch behind the ears before kneeling down to the crate and peering inside. The animal hissed and retreated to the back of the kennel. "Do you have a flashlight?"

Luke produced one, and she peered inside with the lantern illuminating the crate. The thing hissed again, and its red eyes flashed. "Well, no wonder it attacked you. It's terrified of magic users. It's harboring a demon."

"A demon?!" he exclaimed. "How did that happen?"

"No idea," she shrugged. "But we should drive it out. It could attack others."

"How do you propose we do that?"

"Stand back, sir," she reached for the latch, and he lunged for her hand. At her dignified reproach, he released her. She opened the latch as power swelled around her. The animal squealed and scrambled to get away from her, but she shielded herself while drawing the creature out of the kennel. She set it down and contained it within a magical field.

"Demon of the underworld which defies all laws of good in attaching to this mortal creature, I command you to flee from this animal and this world at once. You have no business here."

The badger, which looked more like a badger now than it had before, screamed and writhed, and suddenly fell still. A dark something funneled out of its body, and hovered above it, wailing and shrieking. Sid growled and snapped at the thing. It was like a weird, smoky blob of darkness, with a glowing red center which seemed to pulse like the beat of some twisted mockery of a heart.

"Who sent you, demon?" Kajri demanded. Her slender limbs were aglow with an ethereal power. A silent wind whipped through his studio, stirring up papers and books. The demon was screaming in apparent protest and scraping and scrambling to escape, but she held it firmly. She posed her question again, this time adding a little surge of power as incentive.

"She will destroy us! She will destroy us! We must attack him, or she will destroy us!"

"Demons? Who is she?"

"She, the witch who comes to destroy. The bad one. Worse even than the bright ones that banish us! She comes to destroy us!"

"I can't see what's so bad about one coming to destroy demons," Luke stared numbly, awed by this supernatural display in his living room.

"Not only demons, but you, too! You humans, you angels, you gods and devils alike! She comes to bring about the purification! Too soon! It is not time yet! Too soon!"

"Go, and be at peace," Kajri dismissed the demon with a flick of her hand. Where it went, Luke did not know, but he watched her with newfound respect when she finally sat down on the couch. Luke numbly picked up the badger, which was now cowering in normal badger fashion, and released it outside.

"So this woman sent that demon to me, to attack me?" Luke asked softly.

"I think it's more serious than that. The demon spoke of the cycle of life, destruction, and rebirth, and said that this woman aims to initiate destruction out of season. It seems that we are standing in her way, so she has dispatched demons to handle us. That would explain the attacks on Andy and Kaena, as well. The fact that she can dispatch demons is troubling enough, but the fact that the demons truly fear her . . ."

"What about the cycle?" he asked. "How can anyone possibly speed it up?"

"You are familiar with the ideas in Hinduism, Buddhism, and many other religions that there is a cycle of these three things. In Hinduism, we believe there is a degradation of all things prior to the destruction; and end period that is so dire that human beings yearn for destruction. You have heard of this?"

He nodded, familiar with it because of his religious studies.

"Some believe that the end is near, as you know by watching the Christians and others constantly remind us of this. They say we are in a state of moral decay, and that the end is coming, and after the end will be a golden age. This is an idea that many religions cling to. Frankly, I think the idea is depressing, but some seem to think that after this is something better. Christians think of rapture, Hinduism and Buddhism teach of a new life cycle, and even science theorizes that after "the big bang" comes "the big crunch" and so we start again. I could be misinterpreting the demons words, but I think not. His feelings were clear. This one comes to destroy earth to usher in the new era. Heaven, hell, earth, and all things between will be wiped away to usher in the golden age."

"But how can one person possibly have that kind of power?"

"Kaena could . . ." she paused. "I think that, in the wrong hands, Kaena's power could be used in this way. She is such an empty vessel, it would be a simple matter to take that power and learn to control it. She dances the strings of fate, and all possibilities are represented within those strands. If she were to pull all the possibilities of destruction at once, it could be so. Although I am not sure she alone has the power to do such a thing."

"You're not saying that Kaena-!"

"No, I don't believe so. I believe there is another. This is what Kaberi and I have seen in our guided meditations for some time, but I can tell you no more. What we heard here confirms it, but we need more information."

"The new one, Sam, he has that power, doesn't he? The power of visions, of foresight. Should we ask him?"

"His power is untrained and uncontrolled, but he may have some insight. I think also that Kaena's parents may have knowledge on this matter. They never discussed how such an unusual power came to be in her. Perhaps there is another like her, who controls the strands of fate."

"Tomorrow, we should gather them to discuss this. Maybe just the three of us and her parents, first. No need to spread misinformation when we're unsure. I will stop by tomorrow morning. Thanks for coming by, Kajri. I really appreciate your help. That was quite incredible. How did you learn to banish a demon like that?"

"Hindu magic teaches all kinds of practical things, not just parlor tricks like some," her face was deadpan, but her voice was joking. He laughed, and it felt good to have some relief after such an incredible evening. He thought that he might cry if he didn't stop, though, so he coughed. He stood up, and so did she.

"I should get back to Andy."

Luke nodded. "Thank you, really."

She grasped his hand warmly. "You're welcome, Luke."

Kajri departed, and he closed the door. He needed to take Sid for a walk, but seriously hesitated before stepping outside. If what Kajri said was correct, things were going to get much worse before they got better, if they got better at all.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Sam got up to answer the door. Kaena's mother, whose name he had learned was Miaka, was arguing with somebody on the phone. Rowan was in her room arguing on her cell phone. Sam had been in the living room to avoid eavesdropping when he heard the knock. He was surprised to see one of the men from last night. Sam couldn't remember the man's name, but he looked like his face had gotten into an altercation with a meat grinder and lost.

"Sam, right?" the man held out his hand. "It's Luke. Can I come in?"

"Well, you can take that shrimp and shove it right up your backside!" came Miaka's voice from the kitchen. The phone made an interesting clanging sound as she slammed it back into the cradle. She appeared in the doorway, looking harried.

"Luke! What happened to you?" she rushed toward him, worriedly examining the scrapes on his face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. This was just a freak attack, or maybe not. I don't know, but I'm fine. I need to discuss something with Sam, if that's all right. Kajri is going to be by shortly, and then we have something to discuss with you and Mr. Gi, if he's around."

"Nakago went out with Kaena for breakfast. He said he had something he wanted to discuss with her. They'll be back in a while. You can go out on the patio if you like. It's not too hot out, yet."

"Thank you," Luke said politely. "Sam, shall we?"

Sam followed Luke curiously, and they stepped outside. It was warm and the air was thick, but a cool breeze rustled the plants on the balcony. Luke sat down at the little table, and Sam followed suit. Miaka bustled out and set down a pile of donuts for them with a sigh, disappearing back inside.

Sam picked one up, hungry and glad for something to occupy his hands. He was a little overwhelmed by all of this. His visions had been getting worse, and he had barely slept a wink last night because of it. He had had strange dreams about demons being commanded by the woman, but they had faded into a generic blur this morning.

"What can you tell me about a woman who seems to be Kaena's opposite?"

Sam froze. He had told Taka and those who had been in the car last night about the woman, but he hadn't said as much as he suspected—that the other woman was Kaena's mirror, or perhaps her negative, like the night to her day, or the yin to her yang. "How did you know about that?"

Luke sighed and launched into the story of how he had acquired the unusual scrapes and what the demon had said. "Kajri and Kaberi don't have powers of precognition quite like yours, but they have been able to surmise somewhat based on their meditations and other unusual skills that there is a woman who is coming, who has powers like Kaena's. But first, I want to hear what you know."

"I just know what I've seen in my dreams. When I was a kid, I would have these visions of a woman standing in the doorway of what looked like Hell, except it was earth. It was as if the whole earth had been scorched and destroyed, and she was pleased. A little more than a year ago, I started having visions of Kaena, too. Instead of one door, there were two, and in one there was peace, or at least a place that was happy and springing with life. I have mostly had variations of that vision, in reference to her, as well as other visions that show me specific things like the tornado that Rowan and I nearly drove straight into, and the disaster on the coast. But I've always felt like the destroyer, that's what I call her, because I don't have a better name for her, is enraged by something. I don't really know how to explain the level of hatred and anger from her . . . just pure hate, pure rage, pure pain, and she wants to wipe it all away. But I can't tell you anything about her nature. I just know she's powerful beyond measure."

Luke seemed to consider this for a moment, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Do you have any way of divining more specifically? It seems that these visions are pretty random, right? You don't control them."

"Right. Um . . . well, I used to do Tarot, but I haven't done it in a while."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't like what I saw last time."

Luke waited patiently for him to continue, so he shrugged and proceeded. He noticed the twin who he presumed to be Kajri slip outside to join them, but she didn't intrude on their conversation. "The last time I did it was about five years ago. You have to understand that I don't read Tarot like most people. There are specific rules, which I learned, but I," he wasn't sure how to explain this. "They didn't make sense to me. I mean, I understand them, but they don't tell me anything. When I do it my way, they kind of speak to me, if that makes sense. So anyway, the last time I did it, I was laying out my cards in groups of seven, which is a power number for me. I don't know why, but it is. I had laid down my seven piles, and began to flip them over. I saw the Fool, which is the card that represents all possibilities, first. I sensed that it was the card that represented the destroyer. I saw the Hanged Man in the next stack, and Death . . . I can't remember all the cards now, just what they said to me."

"So what did it all mean?"

"It showed to me that there were many paths, but only one destination. There would be a time of quietude and reflection, the calm before the storm, so to speak, and then there would be a transformation; a violent one, more like a revolution or a war, and then a new beginning."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"It's hard to explain the undertones, the feelings. This wasn't some happy golden age—it was a war, with suffering and death and destruction, famine, murder, pain. I don't just look at the cards and interpret them. I feel them, I feel the emotional tone of what they're saying to me. I don't know how it works, but it's like I'm," he paused, aware of how crazy this sounded. "Like something is speaking through the cards."

"Maybe it's time to do another reading," Luke suggested.

Rowan appeared at the door, holding his cards. "Mrs. Gi sent me to bring these to you."

Sam glanced over his shoulder to where the middle aged woman wagged her fingers before returning to her phone call. Strange, perceptive woman. Rowan handed him the cards and took a seat at the table. Kajri joined them. He had never tried it with an audience before, but he thought he could give it a go. He handed the cards to Kajri to shuffle. She did so and handed them back.

"I've never done this with others before," he warned them. "I have no idea if it will work as you expect."

"It doesn't matter what we expect," Kajri said quietly. "Only that you do your magic as is natural to you."

Sam nodded and shuffled one last time, cutting the deck, then dividing them into eleven equal piles. He shuffled the piles with his hands, stacking them neatly. He turned over the first card. The Fool. The last time he had done this, he had clearly felt that the Fool represented the destroyer. "Kaena," he murmured without thinking.

He moved to the next stack, and flipped the top card. The Hanged Man. The High Priestess came next, followed by the Chariot. He moved the High Priestess to the right of the Fool, and the Chariot to the left. This was different from before. There were possibilities that weren't there before. Two paths, like his vision. He placed the Hanged Man beneath those cards, and flipped over two more. Death, and Justice. He flipped the last card, which was the Star. He laid down the rest of the stack in his hand and pushed it over to Rowan. "Take the last one," he said.

Rowan, hands shaking, took the top card and handed it back to Sam. He shook his head. "Put it down."

"Where?"

"Where it leads you," he shrugged.

Rowan set down the final card directly on top of the Star. Sam brushed her fingers as he flipped it face up. He felt a flash of energy pass between them, and she drew away nervously. It was the Lovers.

He looked at the cards. An odd power came over him, the way it had before. He felt open, and free, like he was floating above his body. He began to speak, but not anything from his mind. "The Fool represents two, one dark, one bright and good. Infinite choice, infinite possibility, one yields to good, the other to evil. The time of calm has passed us, now comes the time of the Chariot, of war. The High Priestess stands against the Chariot, but she remains fragile. The Star will usher the future, or futures, and the Lovers suggest what is necessary to bring about the future you would choose. But if the support of the High Priestess should falter, you will fail."

Sam snapped back to himself. The others stared at him in awe. He leaned back, exhausted. He noticed his hands were shaking violently, and he set them flat on the table in an attempt to still them.

"Are you aware that a great corona of power surrounds you when you summon your power in such a way?" Kajri questioned.

"Is that what that was?" Rowan asked in a quiet voice.

"I had no idea," Sam admitted. "I've only ever done it alone."

"You should be careful," Luke warned. "You used a lot of energy. If you overdid it while alone, you could die. But that was quite impressive. You have a lot of power. It seems you don't focus it except when divining this way."

"So, that was different from last time?" Kajri questioned. "Can you tell me more about the nature of the Fool?"

"The Fool is choice, possibility. You can sometimes think of it as fate, or all possible fates," he explained. "At least, that's the impression I got. I think both Kaena and the other one are represented here. One the High Priestess of wisdom, of knowledge, the other the Charioteer of a great war."

"That answers a question I had, or at least supports my theory," Luke said. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"The Priestess if fragile, and the ties that bind all of us together, even more so. If those ties should snap . . ."

"You mean, if one of us were to die?" Kajri asked.

He shook his head. "Emotional ties."

"Hmm," she mused. "That is useful to know. Thank you, Sam."

"No problem," he mumbled. "Anytime."

"We need to speak to Kaena's parents," Luke advised.

Kajri nodded. "I need to do my own divination," the woman said. "I will call you later. I must go now. Goodbye."

Kajri departed. Thoughtfully, Luke paced. "I need some air."

"We're on a patio," Rowan pointed out.

"I need some cooler air," he gestured inside, and escaped quickly.

Sam thought Rowan looked a little spooked. Was it different when the power wasn't so docile as a vision? When he could use it? Maybe so... She touched his hand. "You're shaking."

"So are you," he replied.

She drew her hand away in apparent embarrassment. "I need . . ."

"Some air?"

"To go read my Bible," she hopped up and followed after Luke, leaving Sam alone, again, on the balcony.

...

Nakago returned to his temporary home, only to be accosted by Luke, one of Kaena's seishi. Of them, he was most fond of Luke. He seemed a man after Nakago's own heart, if more affable. He allowed himself to be led out to his patio, where he passed Sam heading into the apartment. His breakfast with Kaena had been an odd one. She had seemed troubled by something, but refused to say what it was. That was altogether unusual, but the fact that she remained adamant about not sharing her personal problem with him was strange. He suspected it had something to do with Taka, and had silently screamed a little inside his head at the realization that it was probably about sex.

"What do you need?" he asked Luke, his tone not particularly inviting. Nakago was anxious to grill Miaka about anything she might know or suspect about the couple.

"I have a question about Kaena," he said.

"Why not ask Kaena?"

"It's something I feel you might be more familiar with. It concerns you, and your wife," he explained, then sighed. "Kaena is an unusual woman, even by the standards of magicians, yes?"

Nakago did not deny this, simply nodded.

"I want to know why. She can do things that most people can't even imagine! I've seen things that, frankly, left me a little afraid. Not of her! But afraid that that kind of power existed. And I managed to convince myself that she was special, and that somebody else like her couldn't exist, but it seems I was wrong, or at least, in denial. Sam has divined that there is another woman like her, one with powers like hers, and she is hell bent on destroying the world. So it is very important that I understand Kaena's powers and how she came by them."

"There's another?" Nakago questioned, trying hard to keep his voice even. The old warrior had no illusions about his daughter's power, and knew that if pushed the wrong way, she could destroy them all. He had always feared her a little for that, and had no shame in admitting it. He loved her more than life, but a seed of fear always resided in him for the day when her power matured.

"So Sam has said, and so Kajri and I have deduced. It seems she can control demons, and maybe cause other disasters. But if she's like Kaena, I imagine she can do so much more."

"That is unfortunate," Nakago sighed. "It is possible, that much I can tell you. Although unusual, Kaena was not the first child born this way, and I doubt she will be the last. It is unusual because a child like her only results when two people who are utterly destined to be together unite to have a child. It's more than what some people would think of "true love" or even "soul mates." It's more like the person who complements you in every way."

"And you and your wife are two people like this?"

"So it would seem. The last ones born this way were called Tenkou and Taiitsukun, legendary magicians in the other world, the one that Taka, and I, and the other seishi came from. That world no longer exists, or at least not in the same way, but the magic of that world and this world are the same. Kaena is a child outside of fate, born with tremendous destiny, and none at all. Infinite possibilities, infinite choices, and utterly unique."

"Though not so unique if there is another born like her."

"But that woman will be quite different; that much should be obvious. She was born to different parents, maybe parents who didn't understand how special she was. There's no way to know what somebody like that could be like."

"Infinite possibility," Luke sighed. "But it seems that's what we're dealing with. The question is, who is more powerful?"

"I don't think it's a matter of power," the blonde said thoughtfully. "Kaena has very little power herself, at least in the sense that most people have it. She can't do the feats of pure power that Taka can, nor can she do the same subtle things you or I can. What she can do, from what she's told me and what I've deduced, is see fate. She can see what might be or should be, and she can choose. You could say that her great power is that of choice. It's a power we all have, but most of us can only choose for ourselves. She can choose for all of us, and her choice IS fate. Or so it seems."

"So what happens when one chooses destruction and the other chooses life?"

"I would think that the one with the stronger, purer will, or the will that aligns most properly with what the Powers want will prosper."

"Powers? You mean like God?"

"God or gods," Nakago said. "But of course, there is anti-god, too. Evil. And evil can be just as compelling as good, at times. So I can't tell you. What did the prophet boy say?"

"That the ties between us would make or break it."

That didn't sound good. Nakago thought of Kaena's quiet distress today, and wondered just what was going on between her and Taka. "If there's nothing else, I wish to speak to my wife."

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry I kept you," Luke bobbed apologetically, and Nakago took himself back into the house. He didn't like this at all. Another Kaena, perhaps without her good sense and kind heart—or perhaps with the same cunning wit and brutal streak, which was bad enough in someone so powerful, but even worse apart from all the gentler characteristics Kaena possessed. Nakago wasn't exactly a praying man, but he sent a thought to whoever was guiding or watching this impending disaster.

...

Sam knocked on Rowan's door. She knew it was Sam by the fact that it was tentative. Nobody else in this mad house would ever have had such an unsure knock. She wiped her face and closed her Bible, setting it in her lap beneath her folded hands.

"Come in," she called.

Sam stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him, leaving it open only a crack. He looked exhausted, and she wanted to jump up and make him sit down and relax, but her warring feelings gave her pause. She wasn't sure how to explain her reluctance to Sam, but she was having a small crisis of faith and his presence wasn't particularly helpful.

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You ran away after the Tarot reading, and I heard you crying through the wall. I'm . . . sorry, if I scared you or anything."

He was still holding the cards, slapping them repeatedly against his leg. She glanced at his face, and then to his twitching hands. He looked like he would drop over, so she motioned for him to sit. "I'm fine. Just confused."

"I heard you arguing with your mom again this morning. I thought it might be over that. But I'm sensing that perhaps it's me you're confused about?" he looked utterly stricken at this pronouncement.

Rowan fiddled with her bookmark. "The Bible says that witchcraft is evil. Sorcerers and fortune tellers were rebuked again and again for using power that didn't come from God. I grew up hearing that magic of all kinds is evil. When it was just the visions, I guess it seemed like it wasn't you doing anything, but when you did that reading, it seemed a little too much like some kind of ritual for me. That power around you, it was so strange."

"I'm not a devil worshipper or something," he defended. "I didn't ask to be given this ability."

"I know that, and I know you're not evil. But part of me thinks that you don't have to be evil to do evil things, just misdirected."

"We're trying to stop something really evil from happening," his voice was a little defensive now, not that she blamed him. She opened her Bible. She had believed it was the absolute Word of God her whole life. But if there were things that disagreed with how she felt in her heart, should she go with what the book said, or what she felt was true? Was she so easily misled?

"Can I see that?" Sam nodded at the book. He set down the Tarot deck and she handed him the Bible. He ran his long fingers over the cover, then leafed through it until he evidently found what he was looking for. "'For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.' I used to love this passage when I was young. Boys and war, you know. I thought that was the coolest idea ever, that we were this army standing against evil and that we would bash it down and defeat it forever."

"Humans can never beat evil, I don't think," Rowan said.

"But we can stand against it. I don't believe in some specific being named Satan, but I do know there's evil in the world. It doesn't take second sight to see that, trust me. I grew up with it in my own house. Don't you think that maybe this power I have, we all have, might be some of that armor? A sword of truth, and a shield of justice, defending against the dark forces?"

"If what Paul and others say isn't true, if magic isn't evil, then what else in the Bible is wrong?" she asked softly. Admittedly, this was a crisis that had been a long time in coming. She had first encountered it when she had slept with Grant. He had said that the purity rules were just there to protect people from diseases, and we didn't have to follow them anymore. His argument had been a contextual one, but as she had continued her studies, she had noticed other things that didn't fit with her picture of God, like David's slaughter of the Ammorites and others. Was that kind of murder truly sanctioned by God, or did it reflect the views of the writers? And if those were separate things, could the Bible be authoritative?

"It does contradict itself a lot," Sam pointed out softly, leafing through to another page. "Like where in one breath Paul says that in Christ there is no Greek or Jew, man or woman, but in the next says that he doesn't allow women to preach. I couldn't get over the inconsistencies."

"If I can't believe that the Bible is the truth, I don't know how to live," she whispered. "But I don't think you or Nakago or Luke or Miaka are evil. But you do magic. You all do it. And none of you are Christians. I don't want to think that you all will go to Hell because you don't believe what I do. I hate that. I hate it. And I hate . . ." she snapped her mouth shut. It hurt too much to say out loud what she was thinking. If God could condemn good people like them, and save miserable people like Grant, then that was a God that she kind of hated and wanted nothing to do with. She sobbed softly.

Sam wrapped his arms around her and cradled her gently. He seemed to understand that her faith meant a lot to her, even if he didn't share the same faith, or any at all. Sam's conflict with the nature of suffering made a lot of sense to her. She had argued with him that there were plenty of good reasons for suffering, but hell if she knew them. She wasn't sure if she believed them herself, anymore. And yet millions of people around the world believed different things, and lived just fine. So what was true? Was she right? Or was she partly right? Could she even be partly right? Did that make her a bad Christian or just an agnostic? She hated this. She hid her face and felt even more worthless than before.

She had to stop thinking about this. Thinking and questioning were what had gotten her into this mess. Faith was about believing without question, wasn't it? Belief without sight, as her parents had said. She sniffed. "I don't think you're evil."

"Thanks, I'm glad. I don't think I'm evil either," Sam smiled down at her, kissing her hair. "I can't help you with issues of faith, since I don't have any to speak of. But I'm always willing to listen, or just give you a big hug."

"Thank you," she managed to give him a small smile.

"So what was up with the fight with your mom?" Sam asked.

"Ugh," she said. "Mom being mom. She's terrified about all the disasters and wants me to come home. I told her it would be safer to stay put and that a friend's parents were putting me up, but she suspects there's a man involved, and after the Grant debacle, she's just worried that I'm an idiot and can't handle my own life. You know, mom stuff."

"Nice vote of confidence," he observed.

Rowan sighed. It wasn't that she didn't love her mother dearly, but she did have a tendency to question every single decision Rowan made, and then make her feel like an idiot for it. Most of the time, she did what she wanted anyway, because she knew she had a pretty good track record for making the right choices, but getting involved with Grant had been one of the worst mistakes she'd made, and worse, she had told her mother that they were sleeping together. It had sort of slipped out, or rather, her mother had made some offhand comment about not being a slut, because girls who sleep with their boyfriends are sluts, and she had flown off the handle and said that it was ridiculous, how dare she say something like that, etc etc.

And her mother had been right about it all. She hadn't wanted to sleep with him, and she hadn't even wanted to be with him after a while, but she had kept it up despite her mother's constant criticism of her choices. In retrospect, her mother's lack of respect had probably contributed to the whole disaster. If her mother hadn't continually told her she was stupid to stay with him, and slutty for sleeping with him, she might have worked up the nerve to leave before he could embarrass her by kicking her out.

"What are you thinking about?"

The realization that her self-esteem issues weren't simply due to Grant was a revelation that both enlightened and enraged her. She wanted to call her mother up and tell her off, but she just didn't have the heart. "My mother helped make me like this. She told me not to question, to just do what the Bible said, to be with an upstanding Christian man, to not have sex, to not swear, to never talk back to parents. That doesn't sound so bad in itself, but the way she did it, she kind of broke me down to keep me obedient. No wonder I fell for that dumbass. He treated me just like she does. You're really the first person to listen to me and not question my competence in that way. You WANT me to have my own thoughts and ideas, and to do what's right for me."

"Of course I do. Only an asshole would try to own you. What right do I have to tell you how to live your life? You've gotten this far, haven't you?"

"Thank you! I have gotten this far, even if I've made some stupid mistakes. I moved far away for college, and learned how to pay my bills and live on my own and get to class, and I made pretty decent grades for a while. My track record suggests I'm not incapable of living my life, but my mom still seems to think I'm a six year old."

"It's funny how parents can totally screw up their kids without the slightest idea of how it happened. I'm amazed by people like Nakago and Miaka. I don't know Kaena well, but she seems so well adjusted, and her parents are supportive but they don't meddle and tell her what to do. They respect her as an individual. I wish I had parents like that. I wish I had even one parent like that."

"Me too," Rowan sighed. Her father wasn't as malignant as her mother, but he didn't stop it, and that was an endorsement of her mother's opinion in Rowan's book.

"Are you feeling any better?" Sam asked.

"You know," she grinned up at him, feeling a bit liberated. "I think I would feel much better if you would kiss me."

"That can be arranged," Sam grinned and captured her mouth with his. His kiss was gentle and deep, not urgent, but filled with need and desire. She had never felt need or desire when she had been with Grant. The Bible thumped to the floor as they leaned back into the bed. It wasn't a cure, Rowan thought as Sam's lean body pressed against her, but it was a start.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Taka wrote a big, red F on a paper and flipped it over. Summer school students were the worst. He started to read another paper and almost screamed at the misuse of the word "there." "It's a demonstrative, not a possessive! Vinny would cry."

"Reading another little gem?" Lena poked her head into the room. Her hair was pulled back from her face in an attractive way, twisted around the crown of her head and pulled into a tight braid.

"Oh, you know the type," Taka sighed and wrote "incomplete" on the paper. The student hadn't even bothered with the pretense of completion. The four to six page paper was less than two pages long. He put it down onto the stack and stretched. "What are you up to?"

"I just finished with my grading, and was thinking about heading home. Are you about done?"

"Yeah, I just have a couple more. If you don't mind waiting, I'll walk you to your car."

Lena glanced outside—it was late. He normally didn't stay this late in the summer, but he'd been putting off grading these papers for days and the students were starting to grumble. "I'll go pack up and meet you back here."

Taka went back to the next paper, which he gave a B for admirable effort, and flipped through the remainder of his stack. There were only two more. He could do this. By the time Lena returned, he was reading the last page of the final paper. She waited patiently for him to finish, sitting on the edge of one of the desks, dangling her four inch stiletto heel off the end of her toe. He was amazed that her feet weren't swollen to twice their normal size after wearing those all day. He put the last paper on the stack and quickly recorded the grades in his grade book. When he looked up, the redheaded woman was digging in her purse for something. She pulled out a little tube of lipstick or lip gloss and applied it to her lips.

"This recirculated air makes my lips dry," she explained sheepishly, shoving the tube back in her purse. "But at least we have AC now. Some of the other districts still don't."

"Unbelievable," he shook his head. It was hot enough in the summer to cook an egg on the sidewalk, and keeping students packed in a stuffy classroom on a day like that would be torture, he imagined. "You ready?"

"Yep," Lena hopped up. Her brown skirt swirled attractively around her legs. The pale blue top she wore set off the color of her eyes and hair. He absently wondered why she was single, but pushed the thought away. It was not his business. Taka grabbed his briefcase and followed Lena out of the classroom, locking the door behind him. "So what are you up to tonight?"

"Nothing in particular. Kaena is having dinner with her parents, and I told her I would be late grading papers, so I think I'll probably call up Andy and see how he's doing—he was mugged last night—and then maybe see what Vinny is up to. You?"

"Oh, no plans. Just me and a good book. Once again," she smiled a bit wistfully. He walked her to her car, and she slid behind the wheel. "Thanks for walking me out."

"No problem," Taka said and started for his own car. He heard the sad click of her engine before he'd unlocked his own car. He glanced back and saw Lena sitting there jiggling the key and hitting the dash. He made his way back to her car and tapped on the glass. She jumped and clutched her heart, but when she realized it was him, she rolled down the window. "Car won't start?"

"Stupid domestic piece of crap," she grumbled. "Would you mind giving me a ride home? It's kind of far, but the train lines don't really go out that far."

"Where is it?"

"The Northwest suburbs," she said sheepishly. "I don't like city living."

Taka glanced at his watch. It was almost nine. He figured that it would probably take him forty minutes or so to get out there, another thirty back to his place, but he had nowhere to be, and he doubted Lena had the funds to pay for a cab to take her that far out. "Sure."

Lena smiled gratefully and grabbed her bag and her purse, abandoning her car and following him back to his. She had already pulled out her cell phone to call a tow truck by the time Taka had settled into his seat and started the car. She left a message with the towing company, and hung up. "Thank you so much. Stupid thing. You know what they say about Fords. Fix or repair daily."

"I thought it was found on road dead," Taka laughed.

She laughed too, and then instructed him on which way to go. Lena looked out the window as they drove out of the city, watching the city scape. "It really is a beautiful city, if you can ignore the poverty and the crime broken up only by the sickeningly rich."

"There's a pretty healthy middle class here, from what I understand."

"True enough. Regular Joes and Janes like you and me. But there's still a lot of crime. How's your friend doing. Andy, you said?"

"Yeah, he was mugged and the guy broke his arm. Didn't take anything, though. I guess he fought him off," Taka mumbled. That was not the absolute truth. Andy had not fought the man off, but the man had clearly not been interested in his wallet. He was recovering, but shaken up. Kaberi was a mess over it. "But that's life. I've had my wallet stolen a couple times. It makes me miss Japan a little bit."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, the crime rate is really low in Japan. The number one reported crime is umbrella theft," he laughed. The idea of anybody trying to steal an umbrella here was ridiculous. Why steal your umbrella when they could steal your wallet and buy one? But on the whole, he preferred Chicago to Tokyo. It was less crowded, and in some ways easier to blend into the crowd. "Kaena and I were thinking of taking a trip to Japan next year. I haven't been back in a couple years."

"What's it like there?"

"Well, different. It's hard to explain if you've never been there. It's just a different aura," he said without thinking. "Or vibe, you know. The little things. Like in Japan, there's this weird mix of old and new in a lot of places. Shrines and temples that date back to the Tokugawa era in the middle of bustling cities. Vending machines on mountain paths. Everything is very carefully groomed and manicured. Even if it looks haphazard, it probably isn't. Here, things kind of sprawl naturally, and the old is updated to look new, or the old is just plowed over for the new. Things that are for utility just look utilitarian. People are louder, more honest, and often more obnoxious. But I kind of like that. I guess Chicago is more honest about what it is. It's straight forward."

"You're right; I think I'd have to see it to understand. But it sounds like a beautiful place, if nothing else. What do you miss most?"

"My family. I haven't seen my siblings or my dad in too long. They're coming for the wedding, though. I'm so excited for them. My little sister Yuiren is even thinking of moving here."

"That would be pretty cool. How old is she?"

"Oh, gosh. I'm a bad brother. I'm not even sure anymore. In her twenties! Damn, I'm old."

"If you're old, I'm ancient! How old are you, anyway? You don't look so old."

"I'm thirty-five. But thanks."

"Oh, you're a lot older than you look. I thought you were my age."

"Which is?"

"Twenty-eight. Did you discover the fountain of youth or something?" she laughed. "Take this exit and then turn right."

Taka obeyed. "I guess I just age well." It might have had something to do with spending eleven years dead. Taka followed Lena's directions until they arrived at a little duplex in a residential neighborhood. She invited him in for coffee to thank him for the ride. He tried to decline, but she was insistent, and he admitted that he could use the jolt before driving back. His sixth sense was abuzz and he couldn't figure out why. It put him on edge. He felt some sort of darkness, kind of like the residue that had been left behind in the religion department after the attack on Kaena. Lena was chattering, so he pushed the thoughts aside so he wouldn't seem rude.

"Do you live alone?" Taka asked, glancing around.

"Yeah, though I make enough mess for three people," she said. "Sorry about that. I didn't expect company today, but you need some coffee before you go back, since I dragged you out here."

"Don't worry about it, my place is kind of a hole right now, too. Too many people traipsing in and out." Lena led him to the kitchen and heated up a cup of this morning's coffee for him while she made herself a screwdriver. "It's just a screwdriver kind of night, don't you think?"

Taka smiled and sipped his coffee, willing it to cool down so he could go. He really didn't like the feeling he was getting here. Thinking on it, he realized he had been feeling the strange anxiety since Lena had gotten in his car. That was strange. Lena didn't have a drop of magic power in her, and he had never felt like this around her before. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

"How's the coffee?" she asked.

"Hot," he replied.

"Let's go in the living room," she hopped up and grabbed him by the arm. The living room was as messy as the entranceway had been, but she quickly picked up stray magazines and things from the couch to make room for him, and he sat. She plopped next to him. Taka took a long sip of the coffee.

"Taka, you're such a strange guy. Nice, but strange. I've always wondered what it was about you. I mean, you're such a professional with your students, but you dye your hair this ridiculous greenish shade, and are engaged to a girl more than a decade younger than you, and hang out with the strangest bunch of people. I just can't pin you down. Though I'd like to!"

Taka glanced at his watch uncomfortably, noting the double entendre. "I should really be going."

"Are you sure? You seemed so tense today. Are you sure everything is all right with you and the college kid?" she asked, leaning over him. Taka felt sleepy, and despite his best efforts, his body wanted nothing more than to slump back against the soft, warm couch. Why had he come here again? His eyelids sagged, and he struggled to remain aware.

"I'm fine. No problems in paradise," he mumbled, words slurred. "Except those pantyhose that appeared. So weird. I have no idea where they came from."

"You mean these?" Lena picked up a pair of black pantyhose from the back of her couch.

"Yeah! How'd they get in my apartment?"

"Don't you remember? I left them there when we were there together. Before we made love, I took them off, and hung them in the bathroom so they wouldn't get bunched up." Lena's lips were close to his, and Taka felt like there was something extremely wrong here. He didn't remember Lena ever coming to his apartment, and he certainly would have remembered sleeping with her, but the idea was plausible. Why else would a pair of black pantyhose been at his apartment? He fought his way up from the haze. He had never slept with Lena! She kissed him, and his body relaxed against his will.

"Lena," he murmured against her neck. "Noo . . . Leeena."

She pulled away briefly. "What is it, darling? I know you missed me, but I'm here now."

"Sttt-" he couldn't speak. She was pulling off his shirt, and for some reason his hands were roaming her back, under her shirt. She had pale skin like he liked, and she was much smaller than him. Her red hair was coming loose from the tight braid, so she reached up and let it loose. It spilled down her back in a crimson cloud, wavy and soft.

This hair should be blonde, and her body should be closer to his in size, and stronger, not so soft and delicate. The eyes were wrong . . . Kaena. This should be Kaena. He screamed and shoved her out of his lap. She pounded her fist on the floor in frustration. "What did you give me?"

"Nothing a big man like you can't handle," she said. "Why are you fighting me? You want to. I know you want to!"

The dark presence was so strong now, it was like it was choking him. Maybe it was. He couldn't breathe. He screamed and flared his aura all around, and Lena screamed in reply and scrambled away from his violent power. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen table and stormed out of the house. The dark aura followed him, and he felt fuzzy, but he had to get away from here. He hopped in his car and drove carefully back to his apartment. He nearly died about twelve times from freak accidents like spare tires falling off the backs of SUVs and unexpected debris on the road, but he made it back and shakily made his way up the stairs. Something was wrong with him. He needed sleep. He needed Kaena.

His phone buzzed just as he stepped inside. It was a video of Lena mounting him, of his hands roaming her body, and he screamed and deleted it. He ran to his computer and checked his e-mail—message after message filled with photos and clips of him and Lena together. He had no idea what to do. He had to tell Kaena what happened, but after betraying her before, how could he tell her what he had done? He still couldn't believe he had cheated on her and been stupid enough to leave evidence lying around. He had cheated on her, hadn't he? He remembered Lena's soft, pale skin, and he remembered the big bed in their apartment . . . the memory was a blur of blonde hair and red hair and blank pantyhose and a silky nightgown, and blue eyes and red hair, and . . . his mind was so confused. How could he have betrayed Kaena like this? Hadn't it been bad enough when that Nifei girl had kissed him on that trip? He had been unwilling then, but it took more than a moment of distraction to have sex with somebody else in your fiancées bed! He clutched his head and bent over himself.

Taka knew he had to get a grip. He went to the bathroom and washed his face. He stared at his face in the mirror, with his dark greenish hair and blue eyes and knew that he had betrayed her. But he could never betray her. He loved her, and he had waited so many years for her, and she was his priestess, and the woman of his soul, the one unlike any other, but in a weak moment, he had been seduced . . . or had he been so scared, scared about how fast things were moving, scared about the wedding, that he had betrayed them by seducing Lena? Surely friendly, sweet Lena would never have come onto him like that if there hadn't been a first time, would she? But Taka knew he was a coward, knew he had seduced Lena, and she had mistaken his kindness for advances, and now it was on film. Was the last time on film, too? But it couldn't be, because there wasn't a last time!

Taka's thoughts were a jumble, and his eyes were wild and red and there was a dark aura all around him, smothering him, holding him underwater until he could struggle no more. He didn't know what had happened tonight, or before, but somehow he knew what had happened. Somehow, he knew he had betrayed her.

...

Kaena knocked softly on Marsden's door. He stood up to answer it, and gave her a puzzled glance as if he wasn't sure what she could want with him, but then smiled politely and ushered her inside. She slipped in and leaned against the wall.

"It's Kaena, right? What brings you here?" he asked curiously. Kaena felt there might have been an edge of pain beneath the polite exterior, but admitted to herself that she might have simply been projecting her own anxiety on him. Truth be told, she didn't know who else to turn to. The fact was that she had become increasingly suspicious that Taka had cheated on her, but didn't know who to ask. Taka had denied it once, and asking him again seemed a little crazy, even though she knew she wasn't imagining his distance, both emotional and physical, and the fact that he was acting suspicious.

"I-" she paused. It wasn't fair to burden him with this. She had already heavily burdened him with the knowledge of what he had done last year. "No reason. I just wanted to see how you were doing after I dumped all that information on you."

He obviously knew it was a lie before it came out, but he played along. "That was kind of you. I'm doing fine. Would you like to take a walk?"

"A walk?"

"Outside this building. It's that thing people do when they put one foot in front of the other, usually with a particular destination in mind," he grinned at her. "They don't let me go out without an escort. I don't know what they think I'm going to do, but until I can prove my competence, I'm stuck. Funny thing is, they don't give me many opportunities to test it. It's almost like somebody wants me here under lock and key."

Kaena wondered if Luke had anything to do with that. "I can talk to them about it, if you want. I'm not your guardian or anything. Wait, aren't you your own guardian now? It's not like you're under age or something."

"But people who are deemed mentally incompetent can, and are, held against their will in well-meaning institutions such as this one."

Marsden was leading them now, through the corridors and outside to a courtyard with a wide path around a tall garden. "You seem pretty competent to me."

"Thank you. I think they think I'm a danger to myself now. And I was so close to being discharged. Damn, I should have kept my mouth shut."

"About what?"

Marsden sighed. "I don't want to burden you with it. You seem burdened enough today."

Kaena raised her brows at him. She didn't know if he was astute or if she was simply transparent, but she tried to school her face not to show so much. "I'm fine. Tell me what's going on."

"Well, after your last visit, I've been a little depressed. I mentioned to my neurologist that I was a terrible person and that I thought the world might be better off without me. He took that as a suicide threat and put me on a 48 watch and made up some cock and bull about my memory taking a turn for the worst to keep me from being discharged thereafter."

"Why did you say that?" she watched his face carefully. His brown eyes were as heavy as the stone benches they were strolling past. It was really too hot to enjoy a walk outside, but Marsden didn't seem keen on going inside.

"Because it's true. I did some terrible things, and it seems like I was just a selfish, miserable human being overall. Luke is always saying how much nicer I am now, which of course implies that I wasn't nice to begin with. It just sucks!" he ran his fingers through his dark hair, which was a little too long to suit him. "All I know about myself is the things people have told me, and it seems like the few people who have bothered to see me only came out of curiosity or obligation. They didn't like me. They don't like me now. At least before I was an asshole, but I was an asshole with an identity. Now I'm just a body without a past, without use, just . . . without."

Kaena stopped in a shady spot and sat down on a bench, motioning for Marsden to sit beside her. He did so reluctantly, looking over at her. He was absolutely miserable, and she felt for him, because she had caused this. Maybe it would have been better not to tell him. "You weren't a horrible person. You weren't a saint, either, but who is?"

"Can you tell me about myself? You seem like an objective person. I don't want some exaggeration. I just want to know what your experience was."

"That's complicated. There was a lot going on, then, and I don't know how helpful it will be in boosting your mood."

"I don't want you to boost my mood. I just want some identity."

Kaena nodded. "We met at orientation at University of Chicago. You were a few years into your program when I started, but you were involved in showing the new students around and introducing us to professors. I thought you seemed like a bit of a kiss ass at first, but then I just thought you were creepy. At first, it was just normal creepy, like I was kind of used to getting from eager males who think all I am is a pair of breasts, but then you started to follow me or appear where I was mysteriously."

"Great, I was a stalker, too."

She waved him off. "You did kind of help me get oriented, though, despite your creepiness, and you drove me home once during the first week when I had missed the train and didn't want to walk home in the dark. Or almost home. I didn't actually tell you my real address, for obvious reason. But you were always full of useful information about people in the department, and despite your creepiness, I didn't actually feel unsafe around you. I sensed that you had some power, and thought maybe that was why you were following me around like a lost puppy. Like draws like, you know.

"After I reunited with Taka, you asked me to see a concert with you. I think you compelled me with your magic. Later, we were making out in your car, and I'm pretty sure that's what was going on, too. No offense, but I wasn't really into it. After that, Taka and I sort of became an item, but you came to train with us, and I didn't really hate you. I didn't particularly like you, but you were all right, kind of like a cool freshmen to a senior. Sorry, I know that's not a very flattering picture. Of course, all this time you had been trying to kill Taka, you had poisoned my father and had the nerve to stand in his hospital room with me looking at him like he was a bug, or at least an inconvenience.

"But I did think that maybe under whatever was wrong with you, there was a kind person. You had never really demonstrated your attachment to anybody in my presence, until the night your mother and sister died. You came to my apartment, I guess with nobody else really to turn to, and you just cried, and I held you. You were vulnerable, stripped of all arrogance and pretension and creepiness—you were just a man who was hurting. It was soon after that you kidnapped me and lost your memory."

"I sound like a real winner."

"I don't know what to tell you."

"So I was creepy and erratic, murderous, underhanded, and a brown noser."

"But helpful, when you wanted to be. And you did care about people. I think you even cared about me a little, even though that was overwhelmed by hatred."

Marsden folded over on himself, his hospital slippers scraping against the pavement, hands over his face. "So that's who I was."

"I don't know why that matters. You're not that now. That's why She took your memory; to give you the chance to be something else, to be what you were meant to be, not mired down by anger and memories. You aren't like that anymore. You seem polite, and concerned, and even funny, when you're not moping."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks," he said. He didn't look like their conversation had resolved anything, but he pushed it aside and turned to her. "It's your turn. What's bothering you?"

Kaena gazed at the pink and red tulips and bit her lip. She didn't want to burden him with this, but she had to talk to somebody. She couldn't bring it to her seishi, because she didn't want to cause a rift, and she certainly couldn't tell her mother! That was just weird. Her father would probably try to kill Taka, and Rowan just had enough problems of her own. "I think Taka is cheating on me."

"What makes you think that?" his tone was professional and courteous.

"I found a pair of pantyhose in our bathroom that didn't belong to me or anybody else who's stayed there. There was also the stain on his shirt. I thought it was some sort of sauce, but maybe it was lipstick. And he's been working late more nights than not, even canceling our dates to work. He's a teacher and it's summer—there's just not that much to do! And he acts suspicious when I do chance to run into him. He doesn't talk to me anymore, doesn't touch me . . . we haven't had sex in two weeks."

"Is that strange?" Marsden's brows shot up.

"Uh, yes."

"Maybe he's just got cold feet about the wedding?"

Kaena shook her head. "No, he had cold feet before. He was antsy, nervous, but still excited. This is like dark dread. He doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. Why is he marrying me if he's going to hop into some other woman's bed? If he's that unhappy, I don't want him to marry me. Could he feel obligated? Maybe he feels like he owes me, or my parents."

"It's hard, not really knowing him," Marsden said. "But have you talked to him about it?"

"I tried, when I asked about the pantyhose."

"But I bet you asked questions that sounded accusatory, right? I'm not saying you were wrong to, but that's not the best way to get him to open up. If there's something else going on, being accused of cheating will only make him more insecure. Why haven't you talked to Luke or your parents about this?"

"It's complicated," she said flatly. "It's a bad idea."

"Too close to the problem?"

She nodded. "I guess it's not that complicated. So I should talk to him. What should I say? I just want to know if there's something that I did to push him away. I'm good at pushing people away. It's a special skill. Or maybe if he's nervous, or not ready, or if he doesn't love me anymore." Or never did. The idea crushed her. The strange child, the strange woman, always too unusual, and always alone. She didn't think she could bear it.

She swallowed hard, and felt tears welling up from within her. It was like she was eleven, and he had told her she was wonderful and then run away to America all over again, except she had given herself to him fully this time, and the thought of being ripped away from him was agonizing. She cursed herself for crying, but the sobs came nonetheless. Marsden scooted next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She wept against his chest, and he held her, whispering soft assurances, which she desperately needed.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Rowan hurried from the parking lot near Luke and Kaena's building, scurrying nervously inside. Things had been weird the last few days. There was a strange sort of suspense in the Gi household. There was sexual tension that she could have cut with a knife between her and Sam, and there was a strange tension between Nakago and Miaka, and she had even noticed a strangeness between the others who had visited. Well, the rude words exchanged by Vinny and Nakago weren't surprising, since Mr. Gi made it no secret that he heartily disliked the man, but the terse conversation regarding the wedding, and the constant incoming reports of disasters around the globe. The U.K. had been basically shut down by another volcanic explosion in Iceland, and a massive earthquake had left thousands of people without power or water in Tokyo. Outbreaks of virulent viruses in eastern Europe and parts of Africa were, they said, only the beginning.

They were waiting for the one Sam had seen, and she had yet to show herself. It was driving them all insane. Rowan sensed that, had an enemy plopped down at the dinner table, the warriors would have been more than happy to fight to the death, regardless of the outcome. But this sitting around and being helpless to stop the apocalyptic disasters was like pulling teeth for them. It wasn't a picnic for Rowan, either, but she had to admit she had more selfish concerns, and she needed Luke's advice.

Luke, she had learned, was a scholar of world religions and religious history and culture, mostly Asian and tribal, but she had come to understand that he was pretty knowledgeable on many topics pertaining to religion. She wanted his opinion on the veracity of the Bible.

She had a suspicion that she wouldn't like the answer, but after several long conversations with Sam (which generally degenerated into them making out), she had decided that if she was going to continue with this line of belief, she had to know the facts. All her life, people had been treating her like a child, telling her to trust, to do as she was told, to do what they wanted and not to ask questions. She didn't want to be that kind of person. Naiveté didn't suit her. She believed she was too smart for it, even if she still had flashes of doubt about her competence and intelligence. Still, somewhere inside, she felt like a "doubting Thomas." It seemed like she had grown up hearing that good Christians believed, didn't ask so many questions! So she had pushed the questions away, and conveniently ignored them.

That hadn't worked out too well for her. Her blind faith led her blindly into a terrible relationship with a terrible human being who claimed to be a Christian. Maybe if she had pressed Grant harder about who he really was, things would have been different. Maybe if she would have had the nerve to rebel against her mother's constant criticism, she wouldn't have gotten into that relationship to begin with. She couldn't hide from the questions anymore, even if she hated the answers she got. So she made her way to Luke's office and knocked on the door.

Rowan lifted her hand to knock, then paused. She heard voices coming from the office, a man's, probably Luke's, and a woman's. The woman's voice was soft, and sounded distinctly like that of someone who had been crying. The door was open a crack, and when the woman spoke again, she had controlled her voice somewhat, but it was loud.

"I asked him what was wrong, why he had been acting so strange lately. I know I'm not the only one who's noticed it. He hasn't spoken to me, hasn't touched me. So I asked him what was up, and he confessed! He said he had cheated on me, with Lena, a woman from work, and that he felt horrible and couldn't hide it anymore."

"I'm sorry, Kaena," Luke said. It sounded like he pulled a tissue out for her. "What are you going to do? Did you leave him?"

Kaena blew her nose. "No. I didn't know what to tell him. I'm pissed! Of course, I'm pissed. But mostly hurt. How could he do that to me? How could he betray me like that? So I just left. I took a bag and told him I was going elsewhere."

"Is that why you were at Kajri and Kaberi's last night?" he asked.

She must have nodded or shaken her head, because there wasn't any sound. "Why were you there, anyway?"

"Just talking with Kajri. But that's beside the point. So do you still want to be with him, even though he did such a terrible thing to you?"

"I don't know. I do. That's the thing . . . it's so out of his character. I didn't want to believe it could be true, but he was acting so weird. And he seemed SO guilty, and so sorry, like even he couldn't believe he had done it. He seemed . . . confused about it. Like he wasn't sure what had really happened."

"What do you mean?"

"He said: 'I'm not really sure what happened.' But it was the way he said it, like he really didn't know. I mean, I know it's easy for things to 'just happen' but why did they start to begin with? I asked him what happened, and he couldn't tell me. He said he didn't really remember. Is that . . . normal?"

"No, not really," Luke sighed. "Kaena, I don't know what to tell you. I can't tell you to leave him or not to, but maybe you should talk to somebody who can give you better advice. Somebody who knows him better? Like your mother?"

"No!" she cried. "I can't do that. You know that they had a thing a long time ago."

Rowan flushed, feeling guilty for eavesdropping and knocked loudly on the door before stepping inside. "Hi. Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to talk to Luke. I'll go wait in the lobby until you're done, but I just wanted to let you know I was here."

Rowan made a hasty retreat. She had certainly not intended to hear such sordid details about Kaena's life. It was horrible that Taka had put her through that, but even worse since their professional relationship (in a sense, being her warrior was a professional relationship) would be affected as well.

She sat down in the lobby. It wasn't long before Luke reappeared. Kaena had obviously taken some secret back way out. "Hi, Rowan. What can I help you with?"

"Sorry to drop in on you at work. I can go if you're busy," she offered. "I didn't mean to barge in on you and Kaena's conversation."

"How much did you hear?"

"More than I intended," she flushed. "I'm sorry."

"It happens. Just, don't spread it around, all right? I think Kaena wants to handle this on her own for a while. Having the other warriors or her parents involved with be hell for her."

"I won't say anything," she promised. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah, come to my office. I have to say, I'm kind of surprised to see you here. I know we haven't really conversed much. We've all been kind of preoccupied lately."

"I understand. I actually have a question for your expertise. It's a religious question."

"Oh," he said, motioning for her to follow him back to his office. She noticed that the window Sam had broken had not yet been repaired. "Well, you have to understand, my interest is purely academic. I can't really speak from experience. I don't really have a faith life, exactly. I'm just a book worm. But I'll do my best."

"That's okay, this isn't an experiential question, just a factual one. My interest isn't exactly academic, though. I'm having a bit of a crisis of faith . . ." she said softly. "Or not crisis, but some questions. That's why I'm here. I want to know what you can tell me about the Bible."

"Um, well. That's a loaded question. Can you be more specific?" Luke opened his office door and ushered her inside.

"I want to know how accurate it is. I know that what we have is a translation from Greek, but is it accurate? How do we know that the people we think wrote it actually did? Is there a copy all together somewhere, an original manuscript written by the hands of the prophets? How can there be so many different translations?"

"Whoa, slow down," Luke held up his hands. "Like I said, I'm not really an expert, but I know some tidbits. First, there is no one complete biblical manuscript in existence, and we can't be sure that what we do have is the original. Carbon dating has made it possible to date some of the manuscripts to times around the days of the early church, but the two most complete versions we have, one at the Vatican and the other in a museum in London, are most certainly not the originals. As for the translation, have you ever looked at biblical Greek before? Like looked up a word online or anything?"

Rowan shook her head dumbly.

"Let me show you something," he pulled a book from one of the many shelves in his office, opening it to a random word. "Take this word, para, for instance. In one declension form it means 'from' but in another it means 'beside.' And that's to say nothing of nouns and verbs. This word, arke, can mean 'I rule' or 'I begin,' which are two very different meanings. And a lot of it is based on context. So you can see why there are so many translations. Different people have different manuscripts, or even just pieces, like a chapter here or there, and then interpreted the Greek in different ways to give different meanings."

"But how can you know what it means if there are so many possible ways to take it? How can anybody say it's 'the absolute truth' if they don't even know if the translation is the right one. I just . . . I guess I grew up being told it was infallible, and I assumed there was some original copy somewhere that we had, and we knew where it came from."

"I wish I could help you. It's a fascinating historical document. I can't tell you if it's divine. That's outside my expertise. But let me ask you this: why does it matter if it's absolutely, utterly true? That every word came directly from the pen of Paul or John?"

"Because it's said, I mean, I learned that it was divinely inspired. Inspired by God himself! But maybe it was inspired by God, but somebody took that manuscript and copied it and then copied from that, and then there were errors, and we translated the errors, and translated translations. How could there be so many errors while still remaining the infallible inspired word of God? It can't, can it?"

"No," Luke said. "I don't believe so. But that's it, that's what I believe. I don't think a book holds power, even if it holds information. But there are several million people on this planet who disagree."

"Thanks for the information," Rowan slowly stood up. Her insides were twisting and she felt like she might be sick. Was it all a lie? If the basis of their belief was, in fact, just as fallible as any other so-called holy book, was her whole belief a lie? How did she even know there was a God? She had thought she had experienced God, but maybe she hadn't. Maybe it was just her imagination. She wanted to believe, desperately.

"Are you all right, Rowan?" Luke touched her arm as she made a break for it. She had to get out of here, had to think, or not think.

"I'm fine," she smiled wryly. "Just opening my eyes for the first time, I guess."

"You don't have to believe what we do, you know."

"Oh, I know," she said. "Thanks, Luke, really. I appreciate it."

Luke nodded, and Rowan made a break for it. She rushed down the twelve flights to the ground floor and was sobbing by the time she made it outside. She felt like she'd been doing nothing but cry the last few weeks, although she knew Sam would attest to the fact that they had been doing other things that precluded crying (generally). Her heart was breaking and she didn't know how to stop it. She thought of all the times she had spent in church as a child, seeing the beautiful flowers at Easter and the trees and lights at Christmas, and singing songs, and gaining such comfort. It felt like her childhood was being ripped away along with her faith.

"Are you all right, miss?" a man stopped in front of her and offered a tissue.

She took the tissue and assured him that she was fine before running off to find someplace more private to lose it. If the foundation of her belief was false, or at least not what she thought, the whole house of cards would come tumbling down, and was tumbling down in her head. She couldn't stop the questions now spinning through her head. The nativity and all those things were just seeming less and less plausible, less real. Was it all just a story? But she thought, she used to know, that there was a God. That comfort she had felt in church, was it just a facade, too, or was there something behind it?

No, she couldn't accept that this was chance, that they were alone. Even the warriors recognized that there was providence, somehow. But what it meant for her faith, she didn't know. She just didn't know. And it didn't feel okay not to know.

Rowan wiped her eyes and nose and put herself back together again as much as she could, heading toward her car. She didn't think any of them understood what she was going through, not really. She glanced at her watch. She had promised to meet Sam for Giordano's later, so she headed in that direction. There was nothing she could do to solve this dilemma for herself. She needed prayer, or at least time. For now, she would just shut of her brain and enjoy some fun time with her kind-of-boyfriend.

...

Miaka hummed as she drove to the airport. She didn't think she would ever get used to driving on the right side of the road. She swerved to avoid some jerk who was honking at her for driving too slowly. Nakago's unshakable calmness was impressive. Her own heart was thudding like a drum being beaten by a meth addict, but he seemed cool as ever. Only his hand firmly clutching what Taka had called the "oh shit handles" hanging from the ceiling of the rented car betrayed him.

"Would you like me to drive, dear?" Nakago asked calmly.

"I'm fine!" she tried not to squeak. Crazy drivers! This whole city was insane. Miaka reached for the map folded between the two seats, and Nakago snatched it out of her hands. "Well, fine, you tell me where to go!"

"Gladly," he drawled. "You have a few more exits."

"I'm so excited to see Nuriko and Tasuki and everybody! They've all been so busy, I haven't seen most of them in months."

"It is my understanding that Saihitei is coming in later, and that Chiriko and Mitsukake will be unable to make it."

"Mitsukake is also coming later, but Chiriko couldn't afford the plane ticket. I offered to pay, but he refused. Besides, I think he had a research trip to China to organize. I can't believe he's already a professor. I still think of him as a kid."

Nakago made a soft sound of agreement. She knew he didn't share the same attachment to her seishi that she did, but he would be happy for her. Yui said she would send a present, but that she and her daughter Yomiko couldn't make it. Keisuke, however, would be coming in with Hani and Kaena's two cousins, who were just a bit younger than her. Kaena hadn't seen Ayako and Akiko since they were children, so she would doubtless be excited about it. Most people would be flying in two or three days before to give themselves time to get over jet lag, but Nuriko had decided that he needed a little vacation from his restaurant, and since Hotohori couldn't abandon his duties for three weeks, he had dragged Tasuki and Chichiri along.

It was sort of strange to think of all these old friends coming together again. She didn't think they'd all been together since her wedding, and even then, Tasuki and Chichiri hadn't been there because they hadn't yet died in the other world. After the worlds had merged, they had gotten in contact, but it was still sporadic. It made her feel young again, and also very old.

"Are you sure the magician is going to arrive on a plane? I don't think I've ever seen him appear in a conventional way in my life."

"Maybe he'll ride his rice hat through the concourse or something," Miaka grinned.

Nakago's lip twitched at this image, but then he frowned.

"Something wrong?"

"Not with me," he said. "Have you noticed Kaena has been behaving strangely?"

"She seems a little frantic, but I assumed it was wedding jitters. Why? Did she say anything to you?" Miaka questioned, worried for her daughter. She didn't think it was the same kind of pre-wedding jitters Miaka had experienced, virginal as she had been, but that wouldn't stop her from having other kinds of doubts.

"No. Nobody has said anything to me, but I have just noticed that she seems withdrawn. We haven't seen her and Taka together in days, and when they are, it seems odd."

Miaka considered this. They hadn't been extremely affectionate in their presence, but Miaka had assumed that that was for her benefit. After all, two lifetimes ago, she had almost married Taka. She was certainly not jealous of her daughter—in fact, she was pleased that her dearest friend was marrying her dear and only child, and that they seemed very happy together. Or at least, they had. "Not really. They haven't been very touchy-feely, but I thought that was for my benefit."

"Hm, it could be," her husband mused. "Perhaps it is nothing."

"Maybe you're having pre-wedding jitters," Miaka teased.

Nakago snorted.

"You know, it's kind of funny. Since coming to stay here, we've turned into the sage parents to all of Kaena's friends. Have you noticed that?"

"Indeed. I can barely take a breath without one of them sitting down with me and asking for my advice. It's quite disconcerting, not to mention annoying."

"And yet you keep dishing out the good advice. Didn't Sam come to you yesterday to ask something about Rowan?"

"Yes, he wanted to know if she had said anything about being upset or depressed."

"Ever since she visited Luke, she's seemed down."

"Yes, and as a matter of fact, she did mention something in passing, but I took it in confidence, so I told him to ask her himself. But Luke has called on me regularly for relationship advice, too, and Kajri. When did I become the resident matchmaker?"

Miaka giggled. Knowing Nakago as well as she did, it seemed quite natural to her, but it was kind of funny. Nakago was certainly not the most romantic man in the world, even if he did know how to woo a woman, but he had forthrightness of speech and a logical way of looking at a situation that made him the perfect person to give advice to others. He could look at any situation and extrapolate the necessary steps to gain the desired result, and that was damn useful in a relationship. Most of the time, people who were in the relationship were too close to the problem to observe objectively. Nakago didn't have that problem, even with their relationship.

"Well, you're good at relationships," she smiled. "At least when you have a fabulous wife to help your sorry self. And you are very analytical."

"Yes, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to sit there and listen to Luke whine about how Kajri is such a nice girl but that she was oblivious to his advances, and then to listen to Kajri tell me how she's certain he isn't interested, and doesn't want to damage their friendship by being too forward? I want to sit the two of them down and tell them to be honest with each other for once."

"That's easier said than done," Miaka said.

"It didn't seem hard for you," Nakago mused.

"Well, I was in love with you, but I thought you were a jerk, so I didn't have to worry about ruining our friendship," she laughed.

"If I recall correctly, I was the one who pursued you."

Miaka took one hand off the wheel to wave him off, swerved, and grinned sheepishly as Nakago's iron grip steered her back into her lane. A man drove by gesturing colorfully.

"Matchmaker matchmaker," she grinned. "I think I'll have a plaque made."

Nakago rolled his eyes, but his lip twitched nonetheless, and pointed to the next exit. Miaka got over and managed to get off the interstate without being killed. She sighed in relief and pulled into the terminal, throwing the car into park and slumping over the wheel. She hated driving. Public transportation was just not the same here. Nakago pulled out a book and started to read while they waited. Miaka wished she had thought to bring a book or a Sudoku puzzle, but she assumed she would talk with Nakago. That was never a safe assumption. She leaned against him tiredly.

"Do you want to drive back?"

"Yes, I do," Nakago didn't miss a beat. Miaka smacked his arm playfully, and he caught her hand and kissed it. "I would also like to kiss you."

"Who's stopping you?" she smiled saucily.

Nakago bent over and kissed her deeply. She melted, cursing her seatbelt and the gear shift between them. If she had been a more limber, younger woman, she might have climbed into his lap. It amazed her that after all these years, he still seemed to be mysteriously attracted to her. She had been a cute girl, and a moderately attractive young woman, but now she was old and saggy and chubbier than ever, yet his kisses were just as passionate, his hands just as curious as they had been when they had been nothing more than children, twenty-some years ago. Not that Nakago hadn't aged, but it seemed that he had aged much more gracefully than her, and most other people. He had thickened, but it only lent him a more solid physique, and his blonde hair was peppered with liberal amounts of grey, but on him it seemed dashing. His face was just as sharp, only now the subtle lines around his eyes and mouth made him seem distinguished, and rugged. Her lines only seemed to make her look tired, but he didn't care. Maybe it was because the affection between them made their bodies merely a convenience. It was the spirit that was ablaze with love.

A hard tap on the window startled them out of their teenage-style necking, and Miaka flushed, hoping it wasn't security telling them to move. Peering through the window were three familiar, if older, faces: Nuriko, Tasuki, and Chichiri. All three faces were grinning toothily at them.

Miaka hid her face in embarrassment, but Nakago merely smirked and opened the car door.

"Hiya, Nakkie," Nuriko grinned and slapped his arm with enough strength to make him wobble. Tasuki grinned, showing one errant fang-like tooth, and Chichiri, mask-less, just smiled.

Miaka climbed out of the car, and was picked up and passed from bear-hugging seishi to bear-hugging seishi until she finally made it back to her husband and clung to him, panting. "Squeeze me to death, why don't you?!" she gasped, but she couldn't help laughing. These were more than just her friends—they were her warriors, bonded to her in a way very similar to the bond she felt for her husband. It was a spiritual connection, and she had missed it.

Nakago and Nuriko put their bags in the trunk of the SUV they had rented, and climbed in the back. Miaka hopped in the passenger seat, which turned out to be advantageous, because it meant she could turn around and chat with her seishi. Nakago pulled out of the concourse, and Miaka clicked on her seatbelt and spun around.

"It's been too long!" she exclaimed. "How have you been? What have you all been up to?"

"Well, we're opening up another branch of the restaurant in Tokyo, and we're working on contracts for two more. Hotohori, my love, my business manager, is dealing with the negotiations. His family wasn't too happy when he decided that politics just weren't his thing, but he's been enjoying it immensely. He's coming later because he has to finish up the Tokyo contract. We're opening up in Ginza!"

"That's so exciting! What about you, Tasuki? How's this world treating you?"

Tasuki, middle aged but still devilishly handsome, grinned. "Well, I tried to insist that I was just as fit as any of those young pups, but no professional baseball team would have me, so I've been coaching the track and field club at Shinzouka Elementary. And teaching, of course. Damned if I don't love working with those little brats."

"Did you know Taka's teaching, too? He teaches high school history."

"That sounds like his bag. I always pictured him as more of a business man, though."

"He never told me why he gave up on business. Maybe he just wanted to try something different. Or separate himself from his life before he, you know, died. Anyway, what about you, Chichiri?"

"Oh, this and that," he said enigmatically. "I've been spending most of my free time tutoring at a local monastery, but I pop in and out to visit Taiitsukun now and then, and try to keep an eye on everybody. I hear you and Hotohori are finalizing your adoption," he nodded at Nuriko.

Nuriko flushed. "I didn't want to jinx it. It's not official or anything, but there's a little girl from Korea and it looks like things will work out for us."

"I'm so glad to hear that! It's about time!" Miaka reached back to grasp Nuriko's hand. They chatted about their lives, and Miaka filled them in on Kaena and Taka's goings on, and they merged onto the Dan Ryan Expressway. Not a moment later, Nakago slowed, then stopped. Miaka looked up. Traffic was stopped either way on the expressway. That wasn't surprising, since it was rush hour in the dead center of the city, but people were honking and some were getting out of their cars and climbing up to see.

"What's going on?" Miaka asked.

Chichiri frowned. "Excuse me," he popped out of sight.

"That would be such a useful skill to have," Nuriko sighed. "Super strength is only useful if you happen to get involved in an arm wrestling contest."

"Or if your car gets stuck," Tasuki pointed out helpfully. "True."

Chichiri reappeared a moment later. "Shield," he said simply, his own spherical shield appearing suddenly around him.

"What's going on?" Nuriko asked curiously. "I don't know how to shield."

Chichiri seemed to realize this a split second before he spoke, and shielded both Tasuki and Nuriko. He took them by the arms and popped them out of site. She heard them reappear on the roof of the car. Miaka glanced at her husband, whose eyes were narrowed dangerously, looking toward something she couldn't see. Miaka climbed out of the car and Nuriko hauled her up to the roof, and pointed. There was some kind of magical barricade on the far side of the long, curving bridge that was the expressway. People were honking and shouting and men were punching the barrier uselessly.

A woman floated above the barrier. It was hard to make out details from this distance, but she had hair like pitch, long and straight, blowing in the breeze. She wore baggy cargo pants and a fitted black tank top, showing off the creamy white skin of her arms and neck. Her black boots looked heavy. She wore no jewelry, carried no pack or bag. She had the strangest aura Miaka had ever sensed. Try as she might, Miaka couldn't get a lock on her power. Her aura was dark and deep, and Miaka reached and reached and couldn't feel anything. She was like a black hole of power. She reached deeper, curious, only to have Nakago's power jerk her away.

"Why did you do that?" she asked curiously. He was standing on the hood.

"You were being drawn into her. Your power dropped dramatically," Nakago said.

Miaka looked down at her hands. Her shield had disappeared. She hadn't noticed at all! "Who is she? What is she doing?"

"I don't know who she is," Nakago said quietly, just as the bridge began to vibrate gently. "But I have an idea of what she's up to."

It was then that Miaka noticed the sound. It was a faint buzz at a peculiar pitch, sort of multi tonal and very, very low. She remembered the sound from somewhere, but couldn't place it. The bridge began to groan and shake harder, and Miaka realized what was happening. She didn't know how the woman was doing it, but she understood what she intended to happen. She was taking down the bridge.

"Nakago, we have to get these people off the bridge!" she grabbed his arm. "It's going to collapse!"

"She's setting up a standing vibration," Nuriko whispered, seemingly awed. "But how? I don't sense and magic coming from her at all! I can't feel her aura."

"Don't reach for it," Miaka said. "Come on, we have to do something."

Miaka hopped down onto the hood of the car, and slid to the ground. She ran to the closest car and knocked on the window. The woman in it rolled it down. "What?" she snarled.

"The bridge is going to collapse!" she glanced at the kids seated in the back seat of the car. "You have to get off the bridge!"

"What?" the woman said again, though this time her voice held a quiver of fear.

"It's shaking up ahead, it's not safe. Get your kids and get out of here!" the woman collected her kids and ran. Following her lead, the others tried to warn people to get off the bridge. Some believed her, but most shook their heads and cranked up their stereos, ignoring her completely. The bridge was shaking more violently now, and people closer to the center of the bridge seemed to notice that something was wrong. More and more commuters abandoned their cars and ran, but the bridge was bouncing violently up and down, in a way that Miaka never thought was possible for this much concrete and steel. "Can't we stop her?!" Nuriko called. "Chichiri, can you fly me over to her?"

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. I think she's way too dangerous for us to handle right at the-" but he stopped when he saw Nakago floating in a blue bubble over toward the woman. "DAMN you, Nakago!" he took off after the man.

Not one to be left behind, Miaka dusted off her levitating skills and managed to propel herself over, although not nearly as steadily as Chichiri and Nakago had. Nuriko and Tasuki were making their way on foot, warning people as they went. Cars were skidding and sliding all over the road now, as the road itself moved beneath them, and Nuriko had to pick up more than one to keep it from flattening families and Tasuki. So much for keeping a low profile, she thought, looking at her floating husband and friend, not to mention herself.

"What are you doing?" Nakago demanded. He shot a small orb of energy at her. She took the hit and fell from the sky, glaring at them from below. Nakago dropped down, and she and Chichiri followed. "Who are you?"

"Who am I? Why doesn't that matter? It will all be over soon enough," she grinned, and the vibration resumed. Her eyes looked far away. She looked vulnerable, and Nakago took advantage of that by firing a larger shot at her. However, this time the blast did nothing. It simply fizzled out against her skin. Suddenly, the pavement cracked beneath Nakago's feet, and he fell through a gaping hole in the concrete. Miaka screamed and dove for him, but he was already levitating back up through the hole.

"Why are you doing this?" Chichiri asked. "Stop, please, these people have done nothing to you." His staff appeared from nowhere, and he began to chant something. Suddenly, his magic backfired and sent him sprawling backward.

Miaka was terrified. Neither of them looked badly injured, but she hadn't even been trying! She hadn't sensed anything, not even a flicker of power. It was like she wasn't using magic at all, but some other strange kind of power. Nuriko and Tasuki arrived in time to peel Chichiri up. He looked a bit stunned, but all right. The bridge broke then, cracking clean across and twisting to the side so that one half slid right and the other half careened to the left before large chunks broke off. People were screaming and running all out now, and some were being trampled by the crowd. Cars and people slid down the broken concrete and abruptly dropped. Great chunks of concrete broke free and slid down. Nakago grabbed Miaka around the waist and threw a levitation bubble around Chichiri, who was still stunned from his own magic, Nuriko, and Tasuki. They levitated away, and landed on the ground well out of the disaster zone. Parents were screaming for their children, and children cried for help, trapped away from their parents. Chichiri regained his wits, and he and Nakago levitated back up to help anyone they could. Miaka's, whose power had been heavily absorbed by the woman, stared up at the wreck, powerless. She cried as she watched people fall to their doom, and watched with bated breath as her husband and Chichiri rescued all that they could.

It seemed like hours, but only a few minutes had passed, before Nakago tiredly dropped to his knees in front of her, completely spent. Chichiri was holding a crying child and calling for her mother. Miaka looked up at the woman, who was now hanging like a marionette above the wreckage. She looked like a doll, just hanging there, but her gaze found Miaka's, and their eyes met. Miaka felt her power then, as it flooded through her. She screamed in agony, and the woman laughed like a maniac, clutching her side as Miaka felt like her insides were twisting. She clutched her heart, and as she dropped over, the woman took a bow and disappeared.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Kaena was with Kajri, Kaberi, and Andy when she first sensed the presence. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt, not quite like anti-power, but it was like there was a deep well of power, or something, not quite like what she sensed her other magic users. The others felt it, but did not feel what happened next.

Always in Kaena's periphery was a sense of the strings of fate, running this way and that through the world, tied to people, tied to animals, and tied to objects. Normally, they ordered themselves, or were gently ordered by a touch of what she thought of as Fate, but was probably more accurately described as a Being, such as the Being she communed with from time to time. However, today, she had seen several of those lines turn black and snap, wrung violently by indelicate hands. She had stared in horror, while her friends watched her in confusion. They couldn't see what she saw. They couldn't see how that thing—man or woman or demon or monster—wrenched and tore and destroyed the webs that had been so providentially strung.

Her phone began to ring, distracting her from the desecration happening before her eyes. She glanced down at the caller ID. Taka. "Hello?" she said numbly.

"Kaena, thank God! Where are your parents?"

"On their way back from the airport," she said. "Why?"

"Because the Dan Ryan just collapsed with two hundred people on it," his voice was strained. "I saw it from nearby on my way home. I'm there now, but I haven't seen them. I can't get a hold of them."

Kaena hung up the phone and dialed her mother. The phone rang and rang with no answer. She tried her father's phone and got nothing. She wailed in frustration and turned on the news. She had no way to contact them, and going out now would be foolhardy. But she couldn't just stand here and do nothing.

"Kaena," Kajri said gently, grasping her arm. "What's going on?"

"The Dan Ryan collapsed. That's what that power was. My parents were on their way back from the airport. I can't get them on the phone," she whispered. She saw her pale face reflected in Kajri's dark, dark eyes, and schooled her features. She couldn't get hysterical now. It wouldn't do any good.

The news went on and on about the bridge collapse, mentioning something about aftershocks from a massive earthquake on the New Madrid fault line in Missouri, and also talking about a volcano which was springing up out of a field in Texas. Kaberi clicked the TV off.

"There's no use in watching that garbage. It gives you nothing useful to think about. Our problem is here. What do you want to do? Would you like us to go looking for them?"

Kaena glanced outside. From Kajri and Kaberi's high rise apartment, she could see the congested streets below. There would be no point in trying to drive anywhere just now, and certainly no reason to risk their safety.

"We should go to your parents' condo," Andy suggested reasonably. "So we'll be there if—when they show up. It's possible that the aftershocks of that quake knocked out some of the cell towers around here."

"Right," Kajri said. She led Kaena over to the door and handed her shoes over. Kaena put them on numbly and followed them outside and through the streets. It was absolute bedlam outside, and Kaena found that almost more troubling than the bridge collapse. Traffic was at a dead standstill, even on the residential streets, and people were taking the opportunity to break into houses and shops and loot. The four of them rushed toward Kaena's parents' condo as fast as they could, and made pretty good time. They pounded on the door.

Rowan, white-faced and shaking, opened it. "Thank God you're all right," she stepped aside and opened the door.

"Are my parents here yet?" Kaena demanded.

Sam, sitting silently on the couch with his feet folded under him and his hands in his lap, shook his head. He looked like someone had just walked over his grave.

"I didn't see it until it was too late," he said softly. "I tried to call them, but I couldn't get through. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Are my parents . . ."

"I don't know. But all those people," he stared at the TV screen. "All of those people on the bridge, and below it."

Kaena paced across the room. She called Taka back, but he didn't answer. She left him a nasty voicemail demanding he call her back, and then chucked her phone across the room, effectively exploding it into little pieces.

"Calm down, Kaena," Andy touched her arm.

"How can you tell me to calm down when my parents, and Luke, and Vinny are out there and we don't know if they're alive or trapped or . . ." her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. She had seen the webs of fate, and she had been helpless to stop that person from doing such a terrible thing. She hadn't expected it at all! Another person or thing who could manipulate the strings of fate like her? It was impossible! But it wasn't, and he or she had done just that. Kaena sat down hard in a chair. Could she have stopped it, if she had been prepared? She looked at the webs, which looked normal now, respun as if by a tenacious spider. She saw no disturbance.

The front door burst open a few minutes later, and Tasuki and Nuriko appeared. Sam and Andy stood up suddenly, acting the part of the protector, but Kaena sped past them and ran into Nuriko's arms. His strong grip was comforting like the words of her friends hadn't been. "Uncle Nuriko! Where are my parents? What happened?"

"Your parents are at the hospital. We got off the bridge just fine, but your mother stared that woman in the eye and then she just dropped. She had a mild heart attack. She's fine! But she has to stay the next couple of days for observation. Your father is with her, and Chichiri popped off to talk to Taiitsukun or something. They sent us here to tell you."

"We have to go to them!" she struggled to get out of his grip but he held her firmly.

"No," Nuriko said seriously. "They made it very clear that they wanted you to stay put. The city is falling apart out there, and they want you with all of us, safe as can be."

"It'll be okay, kiddo," Tasuki patted her back. "We'll stay here. They said they'd call once Miaka's moved into a room. She's still in the ER at the moment, because the hospital is filling up fast."

Kaena didn't bother trying to struggle against Nuriko's iron grip. Instead, she relaxed into it, and he hugged her again. "It's all right. It's going to be all right."

She welcomed Tasuki and Nuriko inside and they joined the circle of anxiety, gathered around the TV. After a while, somebody muted it, then turned it off altogether. It was just too depressing. A few minutes of silence, and Kaena thought her head was going to explode. She jumped to the door when it opened. It was Vinny and Taka, looking bedraggled as all hell, but unharmed. Without thinking, she hugged Taka, and he embraced her firmly. His embrace soothed her briefly, but she pulled away under the pretense of hugging Vinny as well. "I'm so glad you're both all right," she said. "What's happening out there?"

"After the bridge collapsed, we started feeling aftershocks from the quake in Missouri. Apparently half the city of St. Louis is flooded because the levies around the Mississippi burst. That is, what's still standing is flooded. There's extensive damage all the way to Springfield and we're still getting aftershocks here," Taka explained. "It's bad out there. This city isn't prepared for earthquakes at all. Some of the older buildings downtown have collapsed, and they're reinforcing the levies around the river now. There's talk of an inland tsunami because of the effects on Lake Michigan. It's bad."

"Do you have any idea what's causing this?" Nuriko asked.

"It's her," Sam said, looking up. "It's the other one, the one that's like Kaena, but evil. She can do the things Kaena can do, whatever that is, and she's causing all this. She's trying to cause some kind of apocalypse."

"This is terrible," Rowan whispered, gripping Sam's arm tightly. More, Kaena thought, for his benefit than for hers.

Kajri was looking anxiously at her phone when another knock made them all jump. It was Luke, hair grey from dust, glasses bent and sitting askew on his nose, and his dog Sid. Sid wagged his tail and greeted them each one at a time with a slobbery kiss and a butt wiggle. Kajri fairly flew across the room into his arms, shocking the hell out of Kaena and everybody else. "Krishna be praised," she whispered, hugging him hard. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Luke pulled out the broken pieces of his cell phone and showed them off. "We were attacked by some looters on our way over. They were breaking into a house where an old woman was sleeping, and we saw it through the window. Sid started growling and just went for it. I started to call the police, stupid I know, but it was instinct, and one of them grabbed my phone and tossed it against a brick wall. I had to fight a little dirty," Kaena was sure she did not imagine the grin that flitted, just briefly, across his face. "They were quick to run, once they realized why bricks and garbage was raining down on them."

She glanced at Sid, who had a scratch on his back that looked painful. Vinny noticed and took the poor guy into the bathroom to clean it. It looked like a jagged knife wound. "So what were you all talking about?"

"Her," Sam said. "The destroyer."

"Ah. Is it her?"

"Who is this her you all keep talking about?" Kaena demanded.

Luke glanced at Kajri, then Sam, and sighed. "We don't know anything for certain, but we've pieced together quite a bit from Sam's visions and things your father said about you. We think she's like you, that she can manipulate fate the way that you can, except she seems to be hell bent on destroying the world rather than being peaceful and Kaena-ish. We don't know why, but we think that she's the one that's been causing all the disasters that have happened lately. We think she's kind of like your mirror—same powers, because her parents were like yours, but for some reason she's just evil."

"We have to find her," Kaena decided. "She can't continue this. It's not just wrong, it's unholy. The webs of fate aren't there for humans to mindlessly pluck! They're for the gods to guide us. But that explains what I saw . . ." and so she told them about how the webs had appeared to wilt before her eyes, violently destroyed by her. "But how do we find somebody that we can't sense? I didn't sense her until she started manhandling the webs."

Tasuki and Nuriko were staring out toward the patio. "Kaena?"

"Yes?" she glanced over at them. She couldn't see what they were looking at, but their faces were both slightly horrified.

"I don't think you're going to need to find her."

Kaena unfolded from her spot on the floor and walked over to the door. Standing on the patio was a woman with long dark hair, fathomless black eyes, casual clothes, and who seemed to be strung from head to foot in the strands of fate. The woman smiled coldly, and knocked on the glass.

...

The woman stood on the balcony. Clearly at a loss, Kaena opened the door and stood in front of it. Luke dusted off his glasses and joined her. Taka was already right behind her.

"Who are you?" she asked coldly. "You're the one that's doing this, aren't you?"

The woman shrugged as if it was a trifle, and Kaena's face turned to stone. He would have mistaken her expression for one of boredom if he hadn't seen her hands shaking. She was terrified, and filled with rage. She stepped out onto the balcony, and Taka followed. Luke was only a step behind. Nuriko and Tasuki led the rest of the scramble outside. They stood there, gathered together like a small army behind its commander.

"My name is Penelope, for all intents and purposes. That's what you can call me, for the short time that we'll know one another," she shrugged her shoulders again, and flipped her long hair lazily. Her beautiful face was cold and cruel, a dark echo of Kaena's own frigid expression. Luke examined the woman closely. She was beautiful, but there was something wild about her. Her hair was untamed and tangled, her eyes didn't stare like Kaena's, but darted this way and that. Her hair blew into her mouth and she didn't bother brushing it away until she spoke again. "You will not interfere with what I'm doing here, or you and your little team of minions will all die."

Kaena's power swelled, and Luke held his breath. He didn't think it was a good idea to force confrontation here, even if they did have the advantage of having eight more warriors than she. Kaena was losing control, but Taka touched her arm and it broke her concentration. For some reason, Penelope found this hilarious. She laughed and laughed, her voice pitched just high enough to be too loud, too strained for real laughter. Her peels of laughter faded to giggles.

"Theresa, Alejandro!" she called. "Show these people that they don't want to interfere!"

Luke sensed it before he saw it, but the explosive power was all around them, or seemingly so. Suddenly, Rowan's blue Jetta hurtled over the ledge of the balcony, straight for the group and plate glass windows behind them. Most defended, but Luke stepped forward to stop it.

"I got it," Nuriko, apparently one of Miaka's warriors, smirked. Not quite single-handedly, Nuriko intercepted the car, spun it on his hands twice, and set it down. "Surely you can do better?"

A man and a woman appeared, levitating onto the ledge of the balcony. Both were dressed in black, the woman's clothes form fitting. Her brown hair was tucked in a long ponytail, tendrils blowing around her in the wind. The man was shorter, and handsome, with large eyes that said too much. They were haunted.

The man clenched his hands together and the windows of the car exploded, showering Nuriko with glass. He shouted as he shielded his face with his arms, and received a thatching of bloody wounds. He swore and pulled back to punch the man. Luke stopped him. Nuriko's strength was impressive, particularly considering he couldn't have been more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, but it was no match for that type of power. That was psychic strength, and physical attacks couldn't withstand it. That explained how they had floated up to the twenty-seventh floor.

The man seemed to sense that Luke's powers were his match, so he sent a shockingly powerful burst of psychic energy toward the other psychic. Luke shielded, but was still buffeted back by the intense strength. Vinny and Taka caught his shoulders as she stumbled, roaring in agony. Psychic power was the power of the mind, pure will, pure energy controlled by intellect with deadly precision. This man's psychic power was like a machete against his mind, and his considerable barriers were battered by the attack. He wavered on his feet and out of the corner of his eye, spied Penelope pointing to the woman.

Theresa stepped forward. She didn't smirk cockily, only stared with absolute coldness at Kajri and Kaberi. Suddenly a fireball the size of a small school bus exploded toward them. Luke threw up a psychic shield around the group, but the fire penetrated it, singing them. Another fireball exploded behind them.

Kajri and Kaberi sprung into action. Kaberi summoned an impressive tidal wave of water seemingly from nowhere, and doused the group first, protecting them from further ignition, and then carefully doused the fire inside. The people the Gis were subletting from were not going to be pleased, Luke thought blearily. Kajri blasted the woman with a strong wind, which sent her stumbling backward until her body was leaning precariously against the railing. Kaberi sent another wave of water at her, and she slipped backward, over the railing. Penelope gasped and stared in horror, as if she had never anticipated something like that happening. Alejandro jumped into action, holding out his hands as if grasping her, dragging her back up. The woman hadn't released a single scream despite her fall. Alejandro set her back on the patio, and she stepped carefully away from the edge. Another psychic blast immediately followed, his scowling face enough of a clue about his opinion of Kajri and Kaberi's attack.

Something very strange happened. Luke had no idea how to describe it, but all of a sudden his world just shifted slightly. He glanced to Kaena who had a horrified expression and seemed to be groping her hands blindly. As Taka and Vinny moved to block, both of them slipped on the wet patio at the same moment, becoming entangled and sliding into Kajri and Kaberi. The psychic blast hit them full on, and they screamed. Luke tried to reach out to shield them, but it was too strong, and he was spent. It wasn't until Tasuki and Nuriko double-teamed the man that the attack stopped, Tasuki sending a fireball rolling at him followed by an uppercut to the jaw delivered with flare by Nuriko. The four panted and groaned in agony.

"You bitch!" Kaena shrieked. "How dare you?"

Alejandro was cursing colorfully and cradling his halfway broken jaw, and the woman was currently wrestling with Nuriko, who restrained her bodily. "I don't have any qualms about hitting women. I was one, for all intents and purposes, a lifetime ago, so don't even think about it."

Kaena released a war cry unlike anything Luke had ever heard. He leaned against the wall and tried to cry out for her to stop, but it was like she was in a tunnel. Power exploded around her, both her chi and something else. Luke blinked several times, but he could still see the strange webs that connected them all. The strands attached to Taka and the others were vibrating heavily. Kaena parted them smoothly, leaving them undisturbed as she dove with fists flying. The woman frantically reached for the closest strand that led to Kaena, but she was too slow. Kaena viciously yanked the same thread—running between them—and the woman froze in place. Kaena pummeled her until Alejandro got up the sense to send a blast at her. She flew backward and Nuriko abandoned Theresa in order to catch Kaena as she flew toward the ledge.

Penelope was screeching for her minions to kill them. They stood in front of her, but glanced at each other. "We're outmatched," the man said quietly. "We must regroup. We can take them out one on one, but not together."

The woman's dark eyes flashed between her guardians' shoulders. "You will pay for that, bitch," she snarled. Her hands gripped the man and the other woman. "Get us away from here."

Obediently, the man lifted them in a psychic bubble and they dropped over the edge of the patio. Taka, recovered from the psychic attack faster than the others, ran over to her, clutching her face in concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said softly.

"Tough sons of bitches. We're stronger, but if there were seven of them?"

"Where do you suppose the others are?" Rowan, who had been hiding behind Sam, asked.

"That's a good question," Taka sighed. "Let's just hope she hasn't found them all yet."

"What do we do now?" Luke managed to straighten up. He was going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow, but he'd live. That psychic bastard was ridiculously strong. Luke thought he could counter him with some help, but not alone.

"It sounds like they're planning to pick us off one by one," Taka declared. "So we have a buddy system. Nobody, I repeat, none of you, not even you, Rowan, will be out without at least two other warriors. We don't want anybody taken hostage to lure us out, and we don't want to be suddenly outgunned because of sheer stupidity. Pick a partner, and stick by them like you were born attached."

Nuriko and Tasuki grinned and linked arms. Vinny grabbed Luke roughly around the shoulders, patting him on the back. Kajri and Kaberi were to be a team, and Andy paired with Rowan and Sam. Luke noticed Taka's hesitation. "I'll be your partner, if you'll . . . if that's okay."

Kaena nodded silently and allowed him to take her under the shoulders as she sagged. There was something both miserable and happy about Taka's expression at that moment. He led her back inside, and the others followed.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Nothing eventful happened for several days, but the warriors didn't let down their guard. As far as they were concerned, the enemy was simply biding its time, trying to get them off their guard. The fact that the disasters around the world hadn't taken a vacation seemed to help convince them of this fact. Taka had called Luke late last night asking for advice in calming Kaena down. She had apparently been seeing the darkening webs and been unable to do anything against it. The more she saw, the more upset she became, and the less she could think to do about it. Luke had advised distracting her in any way Taka could think of, which had not ended well. So now Vinny was Kaena's escort, and Taka and Luke were traveling as a team.

Taka tried to take his mind off of how miserable he was by focusing on how miserable everybody else in the world must be. There had been a massive earthquake off the pacific northwest which had created an enormous tidal wave. The wave had slammed into the coasts of Oregon, Washington, and northern California, burying the major cities there in flood waters and killing thousands in both the quake and the flood water. The wave had hit Hawaii and Japan a few hours later, although advanced warning had helped to curtail the fatalities. Still, hundreds of thousands in the coastal areas were now homeless.

"Where are we going?" Taka asked.

"To meet Kajri and Kaberi, for the twelfth time," Luke frowned. "What happened last night?"

"It's a long, stupid story," he sighed.

"I have time," Luke said, and then froze. Taka followed his gaze, but saw nothing unusual. The man was completely frozen in place.

"Luke?" Taka shook his stiff shoulders. He fell backwards and was only saved from the pavement by Taka's quick reflexes. "What the hell?"

"He's fine, for now," a familiar voice called. The man they had encountered on the rooftop appeared suddenly. He hadn't stepped around a corner or anything: he had simply appeared. Taka felt the man's power now, subtle, choking Luke's like a tightly clenched fist.

"Let him go!" Taka flared his own great power, and the man took a slight step back. Taka knew he didn't exactly look the part of the big, scary warrior, but he didn't look like a slouch, either. Maybe it was the ferocity with which he had swelled his power that startled the man. Whatever it was, it gave Taka the opportunity to catch him off guard. He flew at the man, ready to pound his face in from sheer frustration, only to find himself suspended in midair.

Alejandro frowned. He was sweating and strained, but managed to keep him from making physical contact. Taka swore and sent his energy in quick bursts toward the man until he, too, swore and fell back. Taka crashed to the ground and scrambled to is feet, while the psychic regrouped. He glanced at Luke. He had managed to move just a bit. At least Taka knew the man's power was limited. If Taka attacked hard enough, would the man's grip on Luke be weakened enough for him to go on the offensive? "What are you doing to him?"

"I've frozen his chi," the man growled.

"Takes a lot of energy, doesn't it?" Taka questioned, stepping toward the man. "Where's your little girlfriend?"

"Visiting your little girlfriend, I believe," the man replied.

Taka swore in three languages and his rage lent him strength he didn't know he had. He charged the man, felt himself hit a psychic wall, and pressed on. Nakago had been accomplished at using his chi in that way, and Taka knew he could break through it. This man was powerful, but not as powerful as Nakago had been in his prime. Enraged and terrified for Kaena, Taka punched through the wall of his power, and the smaller man screamed and stumbled back. Taka pummeled him until he heard Luke scraping around behind, and then he simply held the man by the throat. "You all right?" he called to Luke.

"Fine," he rasped. "I don't think he can breathe."

"That's the idea."

"He's more useful alive for now, Taka," Luke grabbed him by the shoulder. Taka considered punching Luke in the face, but refrained. Luke wasn't his enemy, and he was right, as usual. It would be more useful to squeeze some information out of him, rather than choking the life out of him.

Taka roared and released him. The man scrambled to his feet, clutching his throat. His brown eyes looked haunted and terrified. Taka hadn't immediately noticed, but this one was hardly a man—he looked about sixteen at this distance.

"You're pretty powerful," Luke said, and turned the boy's trick back on him. He squealed in fear, a strangled cry, and clawed at his throat. Luke was slowly choking him. Taka had to admit that he didn't think the bookish man had it in him. "Where are your friends?"

Luke apparently released him, for he gulped air and gasped. "Fuck you."

"That's not nice," Luke squeezed his fingers together again, and the boy struggled. "How many are you?"

"Can't . . . breathe . . . !"

"You haven't fingers, don't you?"

Alejandro held up three fingers. Luke allowed him to take a breath.

"Just the three of you?"

"There are more of us, but only three would fight with her," he rasped.

"Why?"

"Don't know."

"Why are you fighting with her?"

"What do you care?" he was still clutching his throat. Taka glanced at Luke. There was a deadly seriousness about him. As much as he had loved Miaka, and as much as he loved Kaena, so did the rest of the warriors. Did Luke really need to ask that? They followed her because they were bound. As for the others, they would probably never know why they chose not to.

"Call me the Cat. I'm just curious," he said. "Where are the others now?"

"I don't know," he whispered, and croaked as his air was cut off again. Taka could see him struggling against Luke's power, but Taka had drained him with his attack and now he was vulnerable. He struggled and scraped his hands against the invisible power choking him to death.

"Maybe he doesn't know," Taka suggested softly.

The boy's brown eyes were terrified. Was it possible he was simply more terrified of disobeying Penelope than he was of dying at the hands of his enemies? Or maybe there was some other motivation. "You know what she wants to do, don't you?" Taka asked.

The terror in the boy's eyes didn't abate, but instead became more intense. He really didn't know where they were. He was just a pawn, doing this for some reason, and he clearly had a good reason to face down these two fully trained warriors. "Where are they? Are they attacking Kaena?"

He mouthed something, but he was losing consciousness and Taka couldn't make it out. Tears slipped down his too-smooth cheeks, and Taka put his hand on Luke's shoulder. "Let him go."

"What?" Luke glanced over. "He's not going to tell us, and we can't leave him to wander around and attack the others like he did us. What if he goes after Kajri and Kaberi, or Kaena next?"

"Let him go," Taka lowered his voice and frowned. "Luke!" he added sharply.

Luke hesitated. The boy was slipping to his knees, eyes rolling back . . . and Luke released him. The boy panted on the ground, sobbing hoarsely and struggling to sit up. "Why?"

"He's just a kid," Taka said. "Go back to your boss and tell her it's not going to happen. My life may suck right now, but we're humans, and humans want to keep living even if we have to struggle and be miserable. We won't let her. I won't let her. Got it?"

The boy scrambled to his feet and stumbled off around the corner. Taka frowned at Luke. "I didn't think you had it in you to kill like that."

Luke stared at him seriously for a moment. "I didn't think you would do any less to protect your priestess and lover."

Taka was left to ponder this in silence as they made their way across town to Kajri and Kaberi.

...

Sam shuffled his Tarot deck in frustration and thumped his head down on the table. He was getting nowhere. Slowly. He threw the cards in the air in frustration. Sid sat down and started chewing on the corner of one and he dove for it with a cry of dismay. Sid looked at him dolefully and laid down, his brown eyes wide and sad. Rowan knelt down beside him.

"Seen anything helpful?" she asked, assisting his game of 78-card pickup.

"Not particularly. Or at least, not anything that I can make sense out of. I keep seeing different confusing futures. In one of them, I see the end of everything. The card that represents Kaena is set apart, far away from us and from another card that I think represents Taka. In another, Penelope is destroyed, and there's another man there, not one of us, but somehow important. In the third, we all stand against her, and Kaena kills her, but almost all of us die."

"Who is the other man?"

"I have no idea. He's not very powerful, but he has a silver tongue, or so it seems. It indicates persuasion, or . . . ugh. AGH. I have no idea."

Rowan looked thoughtful. Her soft body was pressed against his side now, and Sam felt his body react accordingly. For days she had refused to do more than make out. Which was fine—their making out was pretty heavy, and he didn't want to push her. But it was frustrating, and he was beginning to feel grateful that the hot water in the building had been out for three days.

"Well, the scenario in which a lot of us die is bad, but better than that evil woman destroying the world," she gazed out over the city-scape. Smoke was still rising from the numerous riot fires, car accidents, and oil refinery explosions, making the city look like a war zone. "So we should focus on trying to prevent the destruction of the world, at least. Tell me more about what you see."

Sam gazed inside and away. He had never been able to do it so clearly and easily before, and suspected his power was growing, but it was like he had a new sense; a new part of his brain that looked into the future instead of seeing the present or hearing or smelling. He closed his eyes, focusing on what he had seen in the cards. The cards helped him grasp the future he wanted to explore. Sam inhaled deeply. "I see Kaena, standing alone, all alone, against the three of them."

"Why is she alone?"

"Why . . ." he murmured. "Where is Taka? Where am I?" He looked back, earlier, trying to grasp the images that wafted through his brain like smoke, dissipating, disappearing. "Where is Taka? Taka . . . That's the question, isn't it? Where has he been?" Sam opened his eyes. "Where has Taka been?"

"I haven't seen him in a while. I probably shouldn't tell you this," she paused, biting her lip. "But it might be important, so I'm going to tell you anyway. He cheated on her. I think the wedding's off. It hasn't been said, but that's what it looks like to me."

"How could he cheat on her? He seemed so devoted. Although, I guess Kaena has been kind of cold with him. I don't know them well enough to know if that's normal. Maybe he was driven off."

"Don't sympathize with him!"

"I'm not, I'm just puzzling. It just seems weird. From what Vinny and Luke have mentioned, they were head over heels for each other. I guess it could be cold feet."

"Or maybe he's just a jerk."

Sam didn't think that was so. He hadn't had a lot of time with Taka, but the man was loyal to a fault, and protective as hell. Not in a jealous way, but in a hero way. "Did she say anything else? How did you find out about it?"

"Um, I overheard her talking to Luke. She did say that he seemed genuinely confused, like he didn't know what had happened. I mean, rather than just 'I don't know how it happened' like he literally didn't remember it. Isn't that strange?"

"Yes," he stroked his chin. "I need to think about this more. Maybe we should work on repairing the rift, or figuring out what happened, at least."

Rowan nodded and absently tugged on a necklace she was wearing, which was not her usual cross, but appeared to be one borrowed from Kajri and Kaberi. Sam blinked. "You're not wearing your cross."

"Yeah, I took it off," she said softly. "I don't really know if I believe that anymore. I believe . . . I know there's a God, but when I start thinking of all the virgin birth stuff, and rising from the dead stuff, it's all so fantastical. How could it be true? I guess I just think . . ." she trailed off.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I feel responsible for killing your faith. If I'd have left you to fend for yourself you wouldn't be suffering like this now."

"I would probably not be alive right now. Remember the tornado. And I wouldn't have met you and all these wonderful people. I think that I would rather know the truth than believe comforting lies, or half-truths."

"Did you know that Taka died before? Twice? And Nakago and Nuriko were reborn into this world?" he asked.

"No! I had no idea. Really?"

"You know I don't really believe what you believe, or did believe, but I've seen so much fantastical, crazy shit in the last few weeks that I wouldn't dare write off the possibility of a virgin birth or a resurrection. I sometimes think that maybe that's a clip of truth, that it reveals something about God or gods, like my visions reveal parts of the future. It might not be the whole story, but it's not any less true."

"But how can we know if it's true?"

"That's where I stumble. That's why I don't believe. I wish I could help you."

"I wish, I pray for some sign, something to direct me or show me the truth, but I haven't heard anything. No signs, no miracles. I just want a sign."

Sam sighed and kissed her forehead. She turned to him, and took his lips boldly, unlike she had ever kissed him before. She climbed over his legs and looked him in the face. "Kaena's mom is coming home from the hospital today. But not until later."

He looked into her blue eyes. He could see the confusion there, the pain, the vulnerability. But he also saw desire there; desire which had been beaten back and told to hide, and he wanted her. He stood up and pulled her to her feet, taking her hand. She followed, her cheeks blushing prettily as he led her back to his bedroom. She stood by the bed, and he flipped on a cordless radio to a soft rock station. She looked like a doll, with creamy, pale skin, wavy brown hair, and shy posture. Sam brushed her soft hair from her face.

"Do you want to do this?" he asked, dropping his hands to her waist. Her fingers wandered across his arms, causing the blonde hairs on his arms to stand up straight, and his spine to tingle. She stood on her toes, offering her lips to him again. He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers, gently at first, and then more fiercely. She squealed when he picked her up.

"Put me down! I'm too heavy!" she clung to his neck in terror.

"You're not heavy," he grinned rakishly and laid her out on the bed, climbing over her. She looked nervous; more nervous than he would have expected from her. Then again, her only experiences with sex had probably ranged from painful to merely tolerable. Sam was nervous as hell, having never done the deed before, but he didn't want to make her feel more nervous, so he hid it. His fingers went to her shirt, and unbuttoned slowly. Her face became flushed in embarrassment, rather than simply shyness.

"Don't laugh," she mumbled, looking away.

"Who could laugh at a masterpiece?" he opened her shirt, exposing her soft stomach, and the alluring swell of her breasts, contained by a rather boring bra. He kissed her neck, tasting the delicate sweetness of her skin, and trailed down over her breasts, the valley between them, and down to her stomach. It was soft and curved in a feminine way—delightfully plump and womanly. She giggled as his lips brushed her sides.

"You're ticklish!" he accused, and took a moment to tickle her mercilessly. She panted and gasped when he stopped, laughter still burbling from between her lips. He reached behind her to unclasp the beige bra, and it fell away, revealing full, round breasts. If he had been aroused before, it was painful now.

"You're not going to motorboat me, are you?" she giggled. "You have that look on your face."

"That's crass," he said, and then touched them. "Yay," he declared.

She hit him with a pillow, knocking him sideways. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body so she faced him. She giggled as he explored them, first with childlike curiosity, then with wonder. He had touched breasts before, but not like this. Not belonging to anyone quite so sweet and beautiful as Rowan.

Tentatively, she reached up and dragged his shirt over his head. He flushed a little. Her eyes were round with wonder, and she touched his abs with amazement, as if she wasn't quite sure if this was real or fantasy.

"What are you thinking about?"

She smirked. "How much better your body is than that asshole's," she wrapped her arms around him and embraced him briefly, before her hungry eyes wanted to look at him again. It felt wonderful to know she desired him the way he desired her. He began to unbuckled her belt, and she grew nervous.

"We don't have to," he said, although his man-parts cried out in protest.

"I want to," she whispered. "I'm just nervous."

"Why?"

"I don't like to be looked at. I don't want it to hurt."

"I love to look at you. And it won't hurt," he whispered, kissing her as his hands undid her pants and pulled them over the lovely, round swell of her hips. He ran his fingers over the womanly curves. Her skin was white as snow beneath her clothes, and soft as silk. He unbuckled his own belt and let his pants and boxers fall away. She glanced down once and looked away quickly, and then did a longer, more thorough examination. Her eyes glinted again, and he assumed that meant he more than measured up to her expectations. He felt his face redden a little, but again that pleased sensation of being met with her desire, rushed through him. He leaned over her, running his fingers through her silky curls.

"Do you have, you know . . . protection?" she asked quietly. "I should have asked before."

Sam dove for the dresser drawer and pulled out a cherry red condom, tearing the package and putting it on. She laughed a little. "I guess I know what that means."

"No pressure! It was all they had," he flushed. In retrospect, he could have looked a bit harder, but he was embarrassed to be browsing condoms at the store. She giggled and kissed him. He looked down at her, suddenly unsure. He didn't want to hurt her, but didn't know if she was ready. Nervously, Sam's fingers wandered between her legs. Judging by the gasp of pleasure, he was doing something right. He watched her face as he pleasured her. Her little fingers clenched against the sheets, and when he finally felt her body relax, knew she was ready.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he slid between her lovely thighs.

She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back to his face, and nodded. He slid forward, watching her face carefully to make sure he wasn't hurting her. Her eyes widened a bit—discomfort, or just surprise?-and he settled into her. He released an involuntary groan and leaned forward to kiss her. He began to move, and his body tingled with pleasure as her hands touched his shoulders, his arms, his hair, his face. It felt incredible to be so close to her, to feel so intimately connected.

When he finished, he cleaned them up briefly, and rolled to her side. She snuggled against him, cuddling up against him. He put his hand on her waist and she cringed. "Hey," he whispered. "Don't do that. This," he pinched her chubby side. "Is beautiful, and so is the rest of you."

"You're so handsome," she replied quietly. "It's hard to believe you're not just using me for shits and giggles. I know better, but . . ."

"You do know better," he said firmly, and kissed her again to silence her. They laid there together for a while, just being with one another. Despite the chaos outside and the horrors in his head, right now he was as happy as he'd ever been. His eyes began to dip despite his best efforts. It felt so good to just be here . . .

A tentative knock from the front door snapped him awake. "Are we expecting anyone?"

"You'd figure most of the bunch would just come in. Did we lock it?" Rowan started to get up, dragging the sheet with her as she went, picking up her clothes.

"Stay here," he snatched up his pants and hopped on one foot toward the front door, hoping it wouldn't open before he got himself zipped up. Rowan appeared behind him and he frowned but didn't argue with the determined look on her face.

Sam stumbled over a shoe left scattered on the floor and grunted, annoyed to be pulled out of his warm Rowan-cocoon and sleep for this mysterious stranger. He zipped his pants and peered through the peep hole.

A young man stood there. He was good looking in an academic sort of way, but he wore hospital issue pajamas and, Sam was pretty sure, nothing on his feet except for hospital booties. The man raised his hand again to knock, glancing down to a piece of paper in his hand. Sam sighed and opened the door a crack.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked, frowning.

The man smiled in a nervous/friendly way, dark brows climbing. "I'm Marsden. Kaena said I should meet her here."

...

Marsden watched the man's blank expression carefully, but all the blonde, shirtless man did was stare. He glanced at the piece of paper again, and back to the good-looking man who looked like he had just rolled out of bed. "You are . . . ?" he trailed off invitingly.

"Sam," he said, opening the door slightly wider—perhaps deciding that he could take Marsden, if it came to blows. "You know Kaena?"

"Yes," he dropped his hands, trying not to fidget. "May I come inside? This building seems pretty safe, but I had a hell of a time getting here."

The man finally stepped aside. He was taller than Marsden, and lean, although he looked like he could use a good meal or three to stick to his visible ribs. He noticed a woman standing by the back wall of the living room, craning around the man to see him.

"And how do you know Kaena?"

"That is a complicated question," he smiled in what he hoped was a non-suspicious, non-creepy way. The young woman, also dressed hastily—hmm—made her way toward them. "Hello," he addressed her.

"Hi," her cheek dimpled adorably. "I'm Rowan. You are?"

"Marsden. I was staying at a hospital up in the suburbs, but there was a fire, and rather than letting them round me back up, I decided I was through there, and started walking."

"What kind of hospital was it?" the woman's brows crinkled in concern at the implication. After all, it didn't seem there was anything physically wrong with him, at a glance.

"Not a mental hospital," he assured her with a smile. "I was in there because of a brain injury, which has resolved. Well, as much as it's going to. I got a hold of Kaena and she sent me here and said she would meet me in a little bit. That was a while ago, so I don't know."

"She found out this morning that her mom is being released from the hospital today."

"Oh! Something happened to her mother? She didn't say," he frowned, hoping he wasn't interrupting her homecoming, especially if she was still unwell.

"She had a minor heart attack about a week ago. Very minor," Rowan seemed to have taken over for Sam, who was looking wary and protective like a new boyfriend. "Can I get you anything while you wait? A drink? Bathroom? Shoes?"

Marsden glanced down at his feet and thought of the rubble and glass he had walked through to get here, nodding tiredly. He couldn't well take a taxi. He had been walking and hitching since yesterday. He'd stolen a bike this morning to make it the rest of the way. He felt bad for that, but it seemed to be abandoned. Or at least, it wasn't tied to anything. "Bathroom, and drink, please."

"This way," the blonde man led him down a hallway. He passed an open bedroom with a Bible open on the bed, and another bedroom strewn with what appeared to be the remainder of their outfits. Politely, he did not comment on either. Marsden sat down on the edge of the tub and peeled off his slipper-socks, hoping he hadn't tracked too much blood and grime across the floor. He turned on the water and began to soak his bruised and beaten tootsies, wiggling his toes.

Once he was sure he had gotten out all the large chunks of glass and splinters of wood, he dried his feet and pissed, washing his hands and face. He looked like a pretty damn suspicious character, if he were to be totally honest about it. His brown eyes had dark bags beneath them, and his hair was, while combed into submission, presently pretty greasy and gross looking. Thinking better of going back out like a hobo, he hopped quickly into the shower and rinsed himself off, giving his hair a decent scrub before toweling off and pulling his dirty hospital bottoms back on. The top was too smelly to touch again.

He emerged a few minutes later, and was pleased to see that one of the two had dug up a clean shirt and a pair of sweat pants from somewhere. The fit was relatively good, and he returned to the bathroom to change. He was met this time with cool water, crackers, and, oddly, caviar, as well as some cheese and apples.

"Is this where Kaena is living now? Doesn't she live north of here? Or is this Taka's new place?"

"It her parents' place," Sam said. "How did you say you know Kaena?"

"I didn't. It's kind of a complicated story, but we've been visiting recently. Or rather, she's been visiting me in the hospital. I was one of Luke's students."

"Oh!" Rowan said. "That explains where I've heard the name. Wait . . . didn't you try to kill Kaena before?"

"Um, yes. But that was a while ago, and I promise, I'm better now. I actually have no memory of the incident. Or anything prior to it," he said as an aside. "She did invite me here, though."

"That sounds well enough like Kaena," Sam conceded. "Or at least like her mother, anyway. She should be back soon."

"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything," he hoped he was not being too obvious, and tried to at least look somewhat abashed.

"It's, um," Rowan flushed hotly. "We weren't, I mean..."

"You didn't," Sam concluded, obviously feeling for her awkwardness.

Marsden lowered his eyelids and munched slowly on the apples. He didn't much care for caviar or cheese, but he was a man who enjoyed fruit. He ate as slowly as possible, to avoid having to make more small talk. He could hear a clock in the room ticking loudly and realized he wasn't even sure what time it was.

It felt like an eternity, and he didn't think he could slowly chew another bite when he heard voices approaching in the hallway. The door thumped open, and in trooped Kaena with a small, older woman, playfully trying to shrug her off, a tall, dashing older man who was clearly her father, and another man who he thought might have been Taka. The older man stopped when he saw Marsden, and the other man's jaw dropped.

"Oh, you're the man who tried to kill me," Kaena's father said.

"Marsden! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I invited him," Kaena snapped coldly. She turned her icy blue gaze on him and smiled in a strained sort of way. "The hospital he was in burned down, so I told him to come. Papa, he has no memory of what he did."

"So you've said," his dry voice was deep and rumbled across the room.

"Mama, are you okay?" Kaena asked, worriedly glancing at the woman's pale face.

She smiled, her hazel eyes sparkling. "I'm starving. And tired. And I have to pee. Take me somewhere to do one of the things my body wants!"

Obediently, Kaena led her mother back to one of the bedrooms, leaving Marsden surrounded by Kaena's looming father and her equally looming, if shorter, fiancé. "I, um. I'm sorry. For everything I did. I don't remember it, but I'm sorry." He glanced at Kaena's father. "You are Mr. Gi? I hope you've suffered no lasting effects from what I did."

The man stared at him with ice blue eyes, eerily like his daughter's, and eventually shrugged one broad shoulder. "If you step out of line, there are plenty of people here to take care of it."

"Um."

"That's not a threat, by the way. It's a promise," Taka muttered as he passed, leaving him alone again with Rowan and Sam. Kaena's father gave the two of them an odd little smirk before disappearing into the kitchen. Sam grinned. Rowan blushed.

Kaena emerged a few minutes later, looking him up and down and raising one pale brow. "So how did you escape?"

"I didn't escape so much as not return after all the commotion of the fire. Which I did not start, in case you were wondering. It was some weird electrical accident. It was the damnedest thing, too. But anyway, thanks for letting me come here."

"I wasn't about to let you wander out there," she frowned. "You've met my warrior Sam, and his friend Rowan, I see. You know the rest, I believe. Well, except, I guess you don't. The other man you saw was Taka, my, uh, Taka. And the one that looked like me was obviously my father."

"I gathered."

"The others will be around later. Don't be surprised if they're a bit put out about having you here. You did try to kill several of them, and me."

"It won't happen again," he assured her in what he hoped was a genuine fashion. One thing Marsden had noticed recently was that conveying emotions that seemed to happen naturally for others took some amount of effort for him. Kaena had had to explain to him that he often came off in such a way that others had trouble correctly perceiving. Not that she was much better, she had admitted, but he had been watching the nurses and other patients ever since, and thought he was improving.

"There isn't really much extra room here, but . . ."

"He can have one of our rooms," Rowan said unexpectedly. "Right?"

Sam's face lit up. "Yes! He can have my room, I'll move my stuff over to Rowan's. If you're sure?" he looked at her in a kind of nervous anticipation. She smiled demurely and motioned for him to follow down the hall, and disappeared into the room with the rumpled bedsheets.

"Good. You can have Sam's room," Kaena said, and disappeared toward the kitchen.

Marsden trusted somebody would give him clean linens.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Taka thumped his head softly against what remained of the balcony rail and wondered half-jokingly if flinging himself off would help. He still had a frustrating blank in his memory. He had the oddest sensation of his supposed illicit affair. It was kind of like the type of memory you have of an event that happens as a very young child, like a first birthday party. You have no way of remembering the event, but you remember what you were told about it. The experience itself would remain latent, locked away within synapses long unused, but there was the second hand experience—the stories from older friends or parents. That was how he experienced his alleged affair. He had no memory of anything that had happened, but there was the blurry video e-mailed to him, and the strangest sensation that somebody else had told him what had happened.

"Why can't I remember?" he raked his fingers through his hair. Something important hinged on his memory, and he had no idea what. He needed help. He wanted to ask Nuriko or Tasuki, but he couldn't face them. What would they say? He certainly couldn't talk to Miaka or Nakago about it, and who did that leave? Marsden? Ha!

He was almost glad when, later that day, Sam and Rowan cornered him to shake him down about it all. Unable to keep it in any longer, he buckled.

"Tell me what happened," Sam said, voice level. Rowan's eyes burned with anger, and her tight lips reminded him of the cold, affectionless stares he obtained from Kaena these days. "I'm not judging you, but I think this is important. Tell me what happened."

He glanced between their faces; Sam's neutral features and Rowan's irritation, and hung his head, slumping against the wall. He looked around to make sure nobody else was within earshot, and it burbled forth from his lips like vomit. "I don't know what happened. I honestly don't know. I have this memory, but it's like it's not my memory, if that makes sense."

"It doesn't," Rowan said flatly.

"Try to explain?" Sam added, giving her a quelling glance.

"It's like what I remember is somebody telling me what I did."

"Who?"

"I don't know, I can't picture them. It's just not a memory from inside of me, you know? When I picture memories with Kaena, our first time making love, I can call it up. I can close my eyes and picture it all, imagine every sound, every word. When I think of this, all I can conjure is the memory of somebody explaining to me what I did. But the explanation doesn't come from any person, it's just like a suggestion."

Rowan frowned thoughtfully. "Like a false memory?"

Taka didn't know what that meant, but the words resonated with him. "Maybe?"

"It is actually pretty easy to create a false memory," she mused, and then frowned sharply. "Doesn't that just sound like something that Penelope woman would do, to cause chaos? To weaken us?"

"But how?" Taka frowned, feeling both hopeless and hopeful at once. Could that be? "I remember dropping Lena off, because her car wouldn't start, and I remember going in for tea, and then sitting on the couch and her pouncing me, and then I remember leaving in a bit of a panic."

"That's all you remember?"

"And then the memory of the memory being explained to me."

Rowan and Sam glanced at each other. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt here," she said. "And assume Penelope was somehow involved in this. How can we prove it? I mean, you said there was a video?"

"It didn't show . . . it only showed her climbing on me, and then it cut out like somebody had thrown clothes over the camera. Then all you could hear were the noises. I guess that would be easy enough to fake, digitally."

"We need to see it. And we need to talk to Lena. Hmm. Sam, you talked to Marsden yesterday, didn't you? Didn't he say that he had the power of suggestion?"

"Persuasion."

"We need him. And we need Lena, and the video."

...

Marsden whistled as he rummaged in the fridge. Luke had brought over some of his clothes, which had been saved in storage after his lease ran out. He supposed he had Luke to thank for that. The clothes fit perfectly, and he felt somehow more human now that he was wearing something other than borrowed sweats and hospital slippers. His feet were still in shreds, but Kaena had bandaged them nicely, and they only hurt when he walked.

He made his way to the living room. The dynamic here was so odd. Their friend Andy had been released from the hospital, and somebody named Vinny had stopped by daily to give a report of the latest attacks and disasters—apparently two women named Kajri and Kaberi had fought off an enemy warrior who ambushed them—and it seemed like there was a constant stream of people in and out, except for Taka and Kaena, who both seemed to avoid the place as much as possible.

Kaena's mother made her way quite spryly (for a woman who had just been released from the hospital) into the living room and sat down next to him, looking at his plate with envy. He offered it to her, but with a huff and a sigh, she declined.

"Gotta watch my sodium," she sighed again. "I hate being old. I don't recommend it."

"I'm told it's better than the alternative."

"Death isn't so bad, or so I'm told," she smiled back at him. "My husband has already done it once, you see."

"I see," Marsden replied uncertainly. Was she quite all right? But yes, it seemed that she was perfectly lucid, and considering the things he had been told and seen the last few days, he supposed he really had no choice but to take the group's matriarch seriously.

Miaka picked up a Bible off the table and fingered the well loved leather. "Pretty book," she said, opening the cover and reading the words inside. Rowan's full name was emblazoned in swirling script, and the date of presentation, some fifteen years prior. "Reminds me of another book I used to have in my possession."

Marsden moved to take the book, looking at it curiously. He opened it up to a random page and read silently. Psalms. He closed his eyes. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil." He looked up, startled. How had he known that? His memory loss, the doctors had told him, had been complete. "For You are with me. Your rod and your staff comfort me. How do I remember this?"

"Some things stay with us no matter how hard we try to forget."

"I never wanted to forget," he mused. "Or maybe I did. How would I know?" He flipped to another page. Jeremiah. He began to recite again. "I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to help and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope, and a new future."

"That's beautiful," Miaka set her hand on the book. "Isn't it comforting?"

"Do you believe in this?" he asked thoughtfully. "I think I did once. Maybe I still do."

"Oh yes. That's a sacred book. Can't you feel it?" she ran her fingers over the pages again. She took his hand gently and ran them slowly over the words. Marsden closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what he felt other than worn paper and the raised bumps of Rowan's scrawled notes. "Listen to it. It's singing. All things alive or inanimate sing, but not like this. There is purity here. There is truth here. Holy books like this always sing a purer song than other things. I've learned to recognize it over the years."

"Luke tells me I was a Catholic," he offered. "So I guess I believed it was a holy book, once. A little piece of truth in a broken world of lies and death. Ritual can be comforting."

"It turns our eyes to something other than the mess around us," she said.

"Yes, exactly. I don't know what I am now."

"I think," Miaka smiled gently, the smile lines around her eyes crinkling fiercely. She took the Bible in her hands and placed it reverently in his. His thumbs stroked the soft binding. "That in this world of despair and ugliness, you have to grasp truth where you find it."

"Where do you find it?" his mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"Love," she said simply. She glanced over her shoulder. "Looks like some of our friends are going out to save it. Maybe you should offer to help."

With that enigmatic comment, the woman disappeared into the kitchen. Marsden looked over his shoulder and spied Rowan and Sam in the hallway, speaking quietly and lurking suspiciously in the shadows. He watched them for a minute, and noticed them watching him back. They hadn't exactly established a friendship in the few days he'd been around, but he liked them. He thought they were suspicious of him and the time he'd spent with Kaena holed up in his room crying, which she'd been doing pretty consistently anytime she happened to show up.

"What are you up to?" he finally asked.

"Um." Rowan glanced at Sam, who shrugged. "Going to help Taka."

"Can I help?" he asked.

"Do you want to?" Sam asked, stepping out of the shadows in the hallway. "I mean, it seems like if anybody were to benefit from Taka and Kaena's troubles, it's you."

"Yes, I can see how having your friend crying in your room every evening would be appealing to some people. I, on the other hand, tend to get my kicks out of less tearful trysts, personally."

"Point taken," Sam conceded.

"So what are you up to?"

"We don't think Taka cheated on her."

"But he said it himself," Marsden frowned.

"But he doesn't remember it. He remembers believing that he did, but he doesn't remember actually doing it. Think about who would benefit from making Kaena suffer. Don't you think that throwing her off her stride with all this," Sam gestured outside to the world which seemed to be cracking at the seams. "Would be a perfect way to ensure that she lose? And besides, who relishes in chaos and the pain of others?"

Marsden frowned. Penelope. Her motives were unclear to him, but considering the disaster she had made of the city in her attempts to draw them here, her desire for chaos did make a certain amount of sense. Still, beyond general chaos, what good did it do to detach the lovers other than to make them miserable? "Wait, you seem to know more than you're letting on."

"He saw something," Rowan confessed.

"One of your visions?"

"Nothing that I haven't already told the people who need to know," he frowned. Rowan elbowed his side, and he sighed. "I think that Kaena is weaker when she stands alone. Not just emotionally, but literally physically weaker. I think she needs the support of the rest of us, but she's been alienated from all of us, except for you, anyway."

"Fat lot of good I'd do," Marsden snorted. "So you think this was Penelope's goal. How did she do it? How are you going to prove it?"

"First, we're going to go talk to the supposed adulteress, Lena. And then we'll go from there. Are you in?" Rowan asked. "I have a feeling you're important in this too. Hey, what are you doing with my Bible?"

"It was on the coffee table," he set it down. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. I mean, I won't be needing it anymore."

Marsden quirked a brow, but said nothing. Well, going out there was better than sitting around here like a lump, doing nothing but collecting suspicious glares from various people. He stood. "I'll get my shoes."

It wasn't far to Taka's school. They tried to avoid him by coming in while they knew he'd be teaching, but the plan backfired when they realized that Lena was also teaching at the same time. They stood outside her classroom door. "I guess we should have thought of this."

"I have an idea, if you're willing to play along? Where is Taka's classroom?"

"It's on another corridor," Sam said.

"Good. Follow my lead."

Sam quirked his head, and Marsden grinned as the other man's eyes widened in the realization that he was about to get socked in the face. The impact of the blow reverberated up his arm, making his whole arm tingle to the shoulder. Sam swung back in retaliation, but he seemed to catch on. They danced, and Sam hit him several more times while Marsden suddenly began to think better of this plan. Rowan shrieked, and they tumbled into Lena's classroom, rolling on the floor in a heap, struggling and wrestling each other while Rowan tried futilely to drag them apart.

"HEY!" the red-haired woman shouted. "What is this?! Break it up! Darcy, Joe, help me!"

Two beefy looking students jumped up and pulled the men apart, and they struggled realistically while Rowan covered her mouth in what was either shock or well disguised laughing. "Stop it! Stop! Who are you and what are you doing fighting like a bunch of wild animals in my classroom?!" the woman demanded.

"This fool's been sleeping with my girlfriend!" Sam snarled.

Rowan flushed hotly, and Marsden obligingly made a face in reply to the accusation. "Maybe if you'd have kept her satisfied, I wouldn't have had to! Not that I minded."

"Oh dear," Rowan groaned, hiding her face as the students oo-ed and ahh-ed at the show.

"Come with me!" the teacher said sharply. "Students, work through your questions until I get back. Darcy and Joe will keep order."

Darcy and Joe grinned in apparent glee, and Marsden wondered if that was terribly wise. Lena motioned for them to follow, keeping herself between the two men, steering them to what appeared to be the teacher's lounge. "Okay, who are you? You're way to old to be a student here," she frowned at Marsden.

"We're not students here. We're friends of Taka, and we have a few questions to ask you."

Marsden gaped at how her face changed at the mention of the name. She went from a professional, if harried teacher to a piranha out for the kill. Her smile was downright predatory.

"What about him? He is a good lover, that much I can say with certainty."

Rowan glanced at Sam in confusion. She didn't even try to deny it, and that was certainly unusual. "What happened? Did you drug him?"

"Ha! I didn't need to. He fell into my palm, once he realized what I could give him. That little blonde waif is too young and immature to know how to handle a man. First, I faked my car breaking down. It's pretty easy to do. Just yank the spark plugs out. And then I had him drive me home."

Marsden watched her face carefully as she recounted what was obviously a well rehearsed exposition, including details that he had to admit would be hard to know, particularly about Taka's body, without having been with him. Although only Kaena could check those facts at this point, and he wasn't going to be the one to ask. However, there was something odd about her expression. Her light eyes had changed. Actually, everything about her had changed. She continued to brag about seducing Taka. "We talk about it daily. If you don't believe me, just ask him. Sometimes we get together at his old place and make love in his bed. I left my stockings there on purpose, you know."

"She's lying," Marsden realized. "Or I don't even know if she knows she's lying, but she is."

"How do you know?"

"She's not wearing stockings."

"Marsden, it's like 90 degrees outside," Rowan frowned. "Who would?"

"But this tryst supposedly began just a couple weeks ago. Why wear stockings then and not now? Besides, she has great legs, she wouldn't cover them up unless she needed to."

"We know you're lying."

"No, I'm not, you little twits. Stop asking questions or bad things will happen!"

"Says who?" Sam demanded.

"Says . . ." she looked a little confused.

She actually looked a lot confused. Marsden got the sense that there was something off about her, something triggered by the mention of Taka. He tried a different tack. "Tell me about Joe and Darcy."

"What are you doing?" Rowan frowned fiercely.

He held up his hand, and watched while her face changed back to how it had been in the classroom. She laughed. "Those two meatheads are never going to graduate, but they're nice guys and they enforce when I need it. They like being in control and I like not having to worry about fighting with the feisty kids. I may pass them just because they made my summer easier."

"What about Taka?"

Her face changed again. No, he realized, not her face. Something behind her face. Some sort of energy or he wasn't really sure how to describe it. Was this what the others felt when they saw chi auras? He wasn't seeing it with his eyes, but with his whole body. He reached forward and she flinched away. Yes, somebody had been here. Somebody with psychic skill had done something to her. He wondered if he could undo it without hurting her? Or maybe he could persuade her aura to get rid of it on its own? Something came to life around him and he realized belatedly that it was his own life energy pouring forth. He thought hard at her, wishing intensely for her to realize that she had been tricked. _Get rid of it,_ he thought fiercely. _Fight it. You didn't do this. Fight it, Lena._

Lena's eyes cleared, then fogged, and she screamed.

"What are you doing to her?!" Sam demanded, grabbing his shoulder painfully.

"Stop! Wait! I'm trying to break it. Just wait. Trust me." Sam reluctantly released him, and he continued to think at her, and slowly he felt the implanted memories dissipate. Lena's eyes cleared and she looked around in confusion.

"Tell me what you were fighting about!" she demanded. "How dare you interrupt my classroom like this? What a pain. It's hard enough to keep control."

"Lena, did you sleep with Taka?"

"What?! Of course not! He's engaged!" she looked appalled.

"But you do have feelings for him."

"He's my friend," she bit her lip. "I knew nothing would come of it. But I can't help feeling how I do. Who are you people? Do you know him?"

"We're friends of Taka's, and you were put under a spell to break up him and his fiancée. We need your computer. Can we access your computer? The one that usually sits in your living room."

"Why?"

Quickly, honest-faced Rowan explained what they thought was going on. Although she seemed reluctant to believe them, they eventually talked her into allowing them the use of her laptop. She pulled it out and logged on. Unexpectedly, Rowan expertly accessed her video files and pulled up the video of the alleged tryst. It showed what Taka had described—sitting down on the couch, some tea, a little seduction scene, and then Taka storming out in anger. "This is the original," Rowan said. She did some more searching and came up with another video, one of Taka and Kaena. "Whoa!"

Sam politely looked away. Lena flushed hotly.

"I think I know what happened. Listen to the edited video," Rowan pulled up the blackmail video and played it. It showed the beginning of the seduction scene, and then the screen went dark. The man's voice supplied the rest of the narrative. "But listen to Taka. Those are the same sounds he was making with Kaena. Somebody combined the audio of this file with the video, and edited out Kaena's voice to make it appear that the camera had been covered. It's sloppy work, especially to leave the originals lying around.

"Who would do this?!" Lena demanded. "Oh God! He didn't see this, did he?"

"He did. He was meant to," Marsden frowned. "We need these files. Can you get them?"

"I'll e-mail them to myself," Rowan began typing rapidly. After all the files had sent, she closed the computer and stood up. "That was easier than I thought it would be. Almost too easy."

"Hmm," Sam frowned. "Do you think we have ourselves an ally?"

"Don't know. By the way, Lena, you should watch yourself. Whoever set this up did a number on you, and we don't want that to happen again. Try to lay low, okay?" Rowan said gently.

"Um. Yeah. Right, okay," she mumbled, putting her computer back in her locker. Marsden followed the others out thoughtfully. Something about this seemed so odd to him, but he couldn't place it. Who had done this? And so ineptly? They had to know that it wouldn't hold up to closer scrutiny. Maybe they had thought there would be no scrutiny, but even still, it was weak. Troubled, the three of them returned to the apartment to find Kaena.

...

Luke put Sid's food down and scratched behind his ears as he wiggled with excitement. The pit mix kissed him affectionately before going to work on his chow. The door to his apartment creeked open and he looked up. "Hey, Vinny, did you remember the mushrooms?"

There was no reply. Curious, the professor got up and went to the door. It was shut and locked tight. Vinny should have been back by now. Since they had started traveling in pairs, Luke had been militant about the rules, about keeping together no matter what, but Vinny said he was sick of Luke's face and had to get out for a few minutes, so he went to pick up the pizza. Luke looked down and saw Sid standing by his leg baring his teeth, hackles raised. He heard a whisper, felt something brush the back of his neck.

"Who's there?" he spun on his heel, but the room was empty. Again he felt the caress behind him and closed his eyes, straining to hear the voices whispering. "There's no way you can win," it said. "No way. It's too late, she's too far gone."

"Don't you think you'd better run now?" it asked.

"Save yourself," it replied. "Luke, save yourself. It's not worth fighting. This world is such a crap heap, isn't it? When men like Taka cheat on their girlfriends and little innocent girls like Rowan get hurt. How do you even know they're your friends. Would they die for you? Do you know they would?"

"Who's there?" he replied. The chorus of whispers continued, and Sid's growls faded to nothing. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, slipping somewhere else. He could hear the voices more clearly now. He wanted to argue with them, but he had no will. Weren't they right? There was so much evil in the world, wasn't it time it started over? It would be so much easier to not have to struggle anymore, to not have to love unrequited . . . Kajri. I love her so much.

"She doesn't love you," the voice whispered.

"She'll only betray you. You'll never have her heart. Do you want to end up like Kaena? Broken and alone? It's not worth the pain."

But, he argued, what if I only wanted to touch her soft dusky skin once? Kiss her sweet lips? It would be worth it for just one second, wouldn't it?

"One second of pleasure for infinite stretches of pain. That's all this world gives you, that's all your gods give you, moments of pleasure in exchange for tolerating pain. So much pain, all that pain. The pain of love lost, the pain of losing a little sister," the voice whispered, and he inhaled sharply, agony exploding in his mind, in his soul. She was so young, she had been so young, and he had been charged to watch her, but she had wandered away, had wandered next door and fallen, or maybe she had just reached in to grab something pretty in the water, and by the time he found her she was gone. And his parents had mourned her, had blamed him, and they had never been the same. "There is no God," he whispered to himself. "How could such a horrible thing happen to a child, to a family?"

"There is no God, there is no god or gods or anything. You're all just alone, and you delude yourselves into following anything for those moments of pleasure despite the pain, despite watching the bright eyes, green eyes like yours, laughing and smiling one minute, and lifeless, staring at nothing the next. There is nothing good here, there is only pain here."

"No!" he shouted, clutching his head. "No! You're wrong!"

"We're not wrong, you're deluded. Poor little boy, poor little child misses his widdle sister. Misses his doggy."

Sid cried out in pain as something struck him and he fell to his side and didn't get up. Luke screamed and struggled against the web that entangled his mind. He didn't know who it was that was doing it or how they were doing it, but he had to fight. He could see the fog now, could see how it had seeped into his apartment, had seeped into him, but he didn't know how to escape it. His limbs felt like gum, stuck to his body. A fire ignited in the corner of the room. He saw her there, screaming, his little sister who had died so long ago. She wasn't there, she was gone. She had drowned. He wailed and thrashed uselessly, entrapped by his body, entombed by his mind, and the whispers continued and laughed at him, and somewhere deep inside he believed them. Believed it was hopeless, that life was pain and there would be no ray of light to breach the darkness, that there would be no love to make the long, lonely nights less lonely. Tears streamed down his face as he watched the fire creep across the floor, lapping at his immobile dog's ears, lap at his shoes. He couldn't move, he was stuck, he would always be stuck, and he would die here.

Suddenly a small, strong hand grabbed him and tugged. He couldn't move his body, but it could be moved. And another figure was moving through the smoke, picking up poor Sid and carrying him away. "Do you need help?" Vinny coughed from somewhere far away.

"No, he's mine," a fierce woman growled, taking hold of him.

"I'm stuck, Kajri," he sobbed. "I'm frozen. I'm stuck in her web. I'll never get out."

"Not true," she jerked his arms. His eyes watered from the smoke, but he saw her there, with a lovely silk scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth. The fire lapped at her feet, but she rebuked it with wind, and it blew back, retreating somewhat. Luke saw her rose brown eyes flash with determination and she ran her eyes over him, or over his chi.

"There is nothing from the outside binding you, only what's inside of you," she whispered to him, stroking his palms, stepping closer to him. "What is binding you. Speak, friend."

"It's hopeless," he whispered, echoing the soft whispered voices that still muttered around him. "It's useless. There's nothing worth fighting for, only pain, only loss. Only death, like Mary died."

"Who's Mary?" Kajri questioned, the smoke clearing because of her powerful gale.

"She was my sister," he said softly. "I was supposed to be watching her. She was so beautiful. Such a beautiful, sweet child, and she wandered off next door, to the neighbor's yard. She fell in the pool and I didn't notice. Did she scream for help? Could she scream, or did she quietly drown, sinking slowly to the bottom without even being able to struggle? They found her later, they blamed me, but I was just a boy, I was only twelve. I didn't know she couldn't swim, I didn't know she would wander away.

"I lost her, I lost my parents, I lost my faith all the same day. They never looked at me the same after. What kind of god lets a child die that way? What kind of god lets anything happen that results in death? And now all these people are dying, we're dying right now. We're all dying from the day we're born into this evil shithole of a world. What's the point?"

"The only way to defeat death," Kajri whispered fiercely. "Is to LIVE!"

Something broke inside him then. He didn't know what it was, but it broke and was mended, and the truth she spoke resonated inside him, resonated through him as if it came from somewhere else in the world, somewhere else in the dimensions. He heard Vinny now, calling for them, and he heard Sid barking, and Andy and Kaberi were there, and the fire was pushing in on them, pushing in on Kajri, and he would not let that happen. Kajri was worth preserving. The love he felt for her, that was worth life even if everything else was pain, even if there was death after mindless death, and he screamed as his psychic powers manifested in a way they never had before, and he sucked the air from the place, sucked it all out, but shielded them in a bubble of her glorious wind. The fire died away to nothing, and the smoke settled to the floor, and Vinny and Andy were running toward them, and he felt his knees buckle, felt his friends drag him out into the warm night air where he gasped and panted and coughed up black muck. Kaberi brought Sid, who looked singed and sooty, but otherwise happy, over to his side. The dog licked his face and leaned against him. Kajri sat down beside him and ran her slim fingers through his hair, pulling the scarf away from her lovely face.

"I didn't know about your sister," she said softly. "I'm very sorry."

"She was such a sweet child."

"You are a sweet, sensitive man," she leaned over him, looking into his eyes, taking his glasses off and wiping them with her scarf. She replaced the lenses and touched his face. "Was that what had you frozen? The memory of your sister, the blame?"

"It was the idea that there might not be anything else in life but the memories of loss and guilt. I forgot about you, though. You broke the spell."

"Me?" she tilted her head.

"Loving you makes life worthwhile," he whispered, touching her hand. She stared at him with wide eyes, her full lips open in a startled 'O' shape. "I don't expect anything in-"

She kissed him. Her sweet, delicious lips touched his, and he jolted, his body tingling from head to toe, and she rolled over on him so she was laying in the crook of his arm. Her streaming scarf tickled his skin and he dared to touch her side, her back, her face.

"I do hate to interrupt this touching moment," Kaberi commented a bit ironically. "But whoever burned down your apartment and entrapped your mind has crossed a line. It's one thing to fight us face to face."

"It's another to take our will to fight," Vinny frowned. Andy, seemingly recovered from his own spat some weeks ago, came up behind his girlfriend and put his hands on her shoulders. Luke looked at their determined faces. How could he have forgotten about these people? The world was full of suffering and evil, but it was also full of friends and family, of love and kindness and concern. Luke, for one, wasn't going to allow these people to disappear into nothingness without at least a fight.

"How did you all get here so fast?" Luke asked. "How did you know?"

"Well," Vinny explained sheepishly, his ridiculous accent coming out. "I felt like something in me was being dragged out and beaten behind a shed, if you know what I mean. Like a part of me was hurting. I just knew I had to get back."

"I heard your hopelessness," Kajri whispered to him.

He was silent for a minute, awed. Then he cleared his throat. "So what do we do?"

"They've issued a challenge," Kaberi said. "So we have to issue on right back."

"In other words," traditional Kajri grinned, her own Indian accent coming out as strongly as he'd ever heard it. "The shit has hit the fan!"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

The vision hit him while he was walking up the stairs with Marsden and Rowan. He felt his nose break against the step, but then felt nothing as he went away from his body, somewhere he hadn't been in a while. The visions hadn't been so bad lately, hadn't been so pronounced, so debilitating. He was in a dark room, and he could hear sobs. Hopeless sobs, helpless sobs. He walked toward the source of the sound and saw that she was illumined by a holy light.

Kaena wept, a child in a cell, chained to a wall. Her pale, lithe limbs were tucked up around her. He felt the presence of a friendly spirit there, but it had departed some time ago, and now she was alone. He knelt down in front of her and touched her face. Her blue eyes, fathomless as the sky at twilight, stared at nothing while her fingers clutched something unseen.

"Come back to me," she cried. "Please don't leave me here where they can get me."

"Kaena?" he asked, brushing her tears away, but his hand went through her. He stood up and went to the door only to find it was locked. He tried to kick at the walls, but they were solid. He called out for help, but no one answered, so he went back to the girl and sat by her.

Suddenly, men flooded the room. Evil looking men who weren't really men but some kind of demon, and the girl shrieked and covered her ears. He thought they might grab her, hurt her, do something to her, but instead they laughed and jeered. "Stupid brat, nobody will help you. They're going to suck out your soul and give your body to Tenkou, and then when your soul is gone from your body, they're gonna toss it to the demons, to usssss, to devour!"

"Help me, help me!"

"You think there is escape from this? Stop fighting!"

"Stop fighting, stop fighting," they singsonged.

"No use in fighting! You're going to die, you're going to die, everybody you love is going to die. Mama and papa and Taka, oh we know about him too! And all your friends, they're going to DIE because you weren't strong enough, because you failed!"

"Shut up!" Sam screamed at them, jumping to his feet. "She's just a kid! Shut up! Leave her alone!"

They ignored him, if they could even hear him at all, and continued to laugh and mock. She curled more tightly in on herself, and the godly light around her began to fade. "No hope, no hope, no help, no help!"

"That's not true! She is hope! She's our hope, and she'll defeat you all! I watched her in dreams my whole life, and I know!"

The light around Kaena surged and then began to fade again, fading fading fading into nothing, and she was fading, her body becoming translucent and dim.

"Shut up the spectator," one of the demons said, cracking his knuckles and approaching Sam. He swung at the demon and found his fist went right through him. The demon's grip did not go through him, however, and he screamed as the man put his hand through his chest, grabbed his heart.

"AAAGGGHHHHH!" he screamed and then he heard himself screaming in real life, his real body, and he clutched his heart. He had to get to Kaena but he couldn't speak. Rowan was holding his body still against the floor as the thrashed, and Marsden was somewhere nearby, where? Where was he? Where were they? Where was Kaena?

"Sam, it's okay!" Rowan cried frantically. "It's just a vision."

He gasped and clutched his heart, sitting up suddenly. He panted, looking around. Marsden was standing a safe distance away looking apprehensive. Rowan's hand found his and she stood up on her knees and touched his face. "A vision, not real."

"It was real. It was a vision but it was real," he stood up. "It was from the past. I have to find Kaena. We have to find her. TAKA has to find her. Where is she?"

"Let's go up and find out if we can locate her," Marsden leapt into action, running up the stairs. Rowan helped Sam to his feet. He rubbed his nose and winced.

"I think that's broken," he said with a grimace.

"It looks broken," she bit back a little snort. "Maybe Nakago can fix it for you. Or at least put it straight."

"That bad, eh?" he asked. He could already feel the blood pooling underneath his eyes.

"It's pretty bad."

"I hope you don't mind having an ugly boyfriend," he laughed weakly and took the stairs slowly, supported by Rowan. The knock to the head had made him weak in the knees. They mounted the last of the stairs slowly, and finally made it inside.

"Where is she?" he asked when Marsden emerged from checking the bedrooms.

"Not here. Let's start calling people," he suggested.

Rowan pulled out her phone and started dialing. "Calling Luke," she said.

"I'll call Taka," Sam offered.

"Her parents."

They began making frantic calls, trying not to alarm anybody, but suggesting that perhaps they should all gather. Kajri and her sister, Luke, Andy, and Vinny were all together, and since the three of them were together, it meant that Kaena was either with Taka or her parents, neither of which seemed likely, or alone. She wasn't answering her phone and neither was Taka, so they split up.

"I'll look for Taka," Sam offered, knowing it might be awkward for the others to gather him up. "I'll fill him in on what we found out. You two find Kaena. I think she's on the brink of hopelessness. You have to convince her that she isn't alone, no matter what. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Rowan nodded once, firmly. He kissed her sweet lips as they stood at the entry of the building. He turned to find Taka. "Sam, be careful!"

"You too!" he called back, and started to run. They headed in the opposite direction. He had a bad feeling about today, and for the first time in a very long time, he prayed.

...

It was getting dark when they left to find her, the first hints of night beginning to swallow the sun. The long summer days seemed endless, but now it was getting cool. Rowan tried to ponder where Kaena might go, but really had no idea. To campus? She shuddered to think of going back there again after what happened last time! To some private place? If Rowan were upset, she would want to be in her room, in a private place. Had they checked her apartment?

"What about her apartment?"

"I don't think she'd go there," Marsden commented thoughtfully.

"Why not? I'd want to be alone . . ."

"She hates it there. Too many memories. I have an idea, though."

Marsden started walking and she followed. They tried to flag down a taxi, but people hadn't gone out much after dark lately. Rowan was a bit nervous to be out herself, but trusted that Marsden's powers of persuasion would come in handy should anything unseemly occur.

"Where are we going?"

"The park," he replied. "I just have a feeling that's where we'll find her. I like to think I know Kaena pretty well after the last few weeks."

"She's been visiting you at the hospital, right?" Rowan asked, and jumped when a cat hissed and streaked past them in an alley. She grabbed his arm and then grinned sheepishly at her jumpiness. He didn't shake her off, so she took it as permission to hold on.

"Yes, although I'm not really sure why. I think she just wanted somebody to talk to who was removed from all the family and wedding and warrior craziness. Removed, but who understood. I didn't have any basis of comparison for what normal reality was, so I couldn't tell her she was crazy," he laughed a little. Suddenly he stopped walking.

"What? Did you see something?"

"No, I—I think I just remembered something," he touched his forehead. "I can't be sure but I think she was my sister. Is my sister? Oh right, my family is dead. Was my sister."

"I'm sorry," she squeezed his arm and he gave her a half smile and continued. She liked Marsden, even if he was a wholly confusing individual. She knew what he had done—Vinny and Taka had made a point of filling her and Sam in on it—but he seemed so different from the angry man they had described. He seemed lost, but earnest in his desire to be found or to find himself.

Rowan had gotten to know all of Kaena's friends and family lately, and thought she was very blessed. Blessed or lucky, anyway. Her mother was sweet and loving, but fierce when she needed to be. Her father was frightening but wise in a way that could only have been born from many years of experience. Taka was a little hot-headed but fiercely loyal, and even though she hadn't gotten to spend a lot of time around the twins or Andy, she liked them. And all of them loved Kaena. Seeing Marsden, hell, seeing herself and how she had a few friends who she considered close, she knew that it didn't compare to the depth of love all these people experienced for Kaena. She found herself a little envious, especially since Kaena didn't seem to have any clue how valued she was.

The city was nearly dark and the pop of gunshots and clatter of breaking class made her jump again. Marsden's hand found her arm. "It's okay, it was far away. At least a couple blocks."

"That's way too close for comfort," she mumbled, but kept walking. "Talk to me, distract me before I scream and hide in a garbage can."

He chuckled. "I'm not a very good conversationalist. Not a lot of knowledge to draw on, you know. Tell me about yourself."

"There's a topic of interest to no one," she laughed. "You really don't remember anything? What about all your education? You were a doctoral student, weren't you?"

"I remember the basic things, the math and history and the like, but not where I learned it. It's weird to have disembodied pieces of information. It's like all the knowledge is still floating around in there somewhere, but it's not connected to anything so I don't have any way to find it. Every once in a while I'll think of something that reminds me of another memory or piece of information, but it's so random. I don't remember anything really from the last couple years, not even my education."

"What a waste," she sighed. "You must be very smart."

"How would I know?" he laughed this time. At least he seemed to have a sense of humor about it. Still, she could tell it pained him a little. "I guess I probably was. Now I'm functionally a high school dropout."

"Do you think-" she started, then cut herself off. That was too personal.

"What? It's okay. I don't mind. I feel kind of at ease around you, like you won't judge me because you know what it feels like to be lost and confused."

He had hit the nail on the head, unnervingly, and decided to proceed with her question. "Do you think that whatever you were angry about, that you would go back to all of that if you had your memories back? Or do you think you'd be able to let it go?"

Marsden didn't answer right away. They hung a right and he didn't say anything for about a half a block. She started to apologize for asking an insensitive question when he finally spoke. "I don't know. Part of me thinks that I'm beyond that now, that I would be able to realize that all of the people that I hated, I wasn't hating them for any good reason, especially Kaena or her father. But what I know about what I did is all very academic. I know it mentally, but I don't feel anything about it, other than embarrassment for being such a sodding moron. If I got all of those feelings back, who knows? I must have been pissed for a reason. I like to think I'm not quite so illogical as to hold a grudge for no reason. So I don't know. Maybe . . ." he paused again, looking up at the sky, illuminated by the bright city lights. "Maybe it really is a blessing, being able to start over. Maybe it's a mercy."

"Mercy from who?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "I don't know. God, I guess. Wiped away my sins along with my memories."

"I don't know what I believe anymore," she admitted.

"I figured. I've been reading your Bible, I hope you don't mind."

She shrugged her shoulders, and hoped he couldn't feel the little tremor that traveled up her spine. She missed it. She missed her Bible and her faith, but she couldn't place it blindly. Not anymore, not after all she'd seen.

"Hey," Marsden stopped. "Do you see that, up ahead?"

Rowan squinted. They were several city blocks yet from the park, but she could see some kind of colorful display. It looked like somebody was lighting a continuous stream of firecracker, or like the aurora borealis had landed at ground level. "What is it?"

"Kaena," he said, eyes narrowed. He seemed to be looking with more than his eyes. She could have sworn she felt something from him, some kind of energy passing very close to her. He broke into a trot and she followed, panting to keep pace.

"Sorry," she gasped. "I'm slow."

"It's okay," he slowed a bit. "Look, we're almost there."

They approached the park and could see the big reflective bean there, with some kind of amazing light source from below showering its shiny surface with colors. They came to a halt, and Rowan doubled over and panted, clutching her heart. Damn, she was really out of shape. She followed a few steps behind Marsden as they approached the source of the light show. She was not surprised to see that it was Kaena, sitting on the ground in the lotus position and meditating, and weeping. Rowan blinked in surprise, having never seen the stoic Kaena cry before. Marsden rushed over and knelt down at her side, shaking her frantically.

"What's she doing?" Rowan approached, standing back. Marsden seemed to be getting hit with a powerful backlash of energy. Her power surged and he was thrown to his back.

"I'm not sure. This power is rushing through her. It doesn't feel like her power, or like any power I've perceived. It's warping, it's battling. She's battling with herself. I'm trying to close myself to it, but it's sucking me in. Be cautious."

"Kaena?" Rowan called, approaching carefully. She winced in pain as the chi energy whipped her and burned her skin like a sunburn. Her hair whipped around her, but the night air was still. "Can you hear me Kaena?"

"Go away!" she heard in her mind.

"Did you hear that?" Rowan called to Marsden, glancing over her shoulder only to see that Marsden was gone, and so was Millennium Park. She whipped around, and found herself trapped in a dirty old prison cell of some kind. The heavy metal door was covered in rust and the walls were covered in dirt and grime of the ages. A small figure was hunched over by one of the walls, shackled and immobile. With horror, Rowan realized it was a child. She ran over to the small figure and knelt down, shaking her. A stunningly beautiful child looked upon her. She had childish versions of Kaena's delicate, elven features, and blonde hair caked with dirt. Her dress hung on her like a rag. She shuddered when Rowan touched her.

"Go away!" the girl cried, but it was Kaena's full, adult voice that answered her. "Leave me alone."

"Kaena, it's me," Rowan said gently, brushing her matted hair from her face. "It's Rowan. Don't you remember me?"

"I'm lost," the child whimpered. "I don't know how to get out. I want to go home."

"Where is home?"

"I don't know. Could be one way, could be the other," she whispered.

"I think we're in your mind, Kaena. In a memory or a dream. If you come out, we can go back home, we can get you out of here. But you have to come out of the dream."

"Not a dream," she whispered. "Not a memory, either. Looks like a memory from long ago, but not a memory. Not this one."

"I'm not sure how to help you. I wish Marsden or Taka were here . . ."

"Taka?" she looked up. "He doesn't love me."

"That's not true, he loves you very much! He didn't cheat on you!"

She laughed, her little girl voice tinkling like bells. "Cheat on me? He's a grown-up!"

"Right, okay, she thinks she's a kid," she muttered. "What if we found him? Can you let me go so I can go get him?"

"Don't know how."

It was then that she noticed the men at the door, with their faces pressed hungrily against the little barred window. She saw their teeth that weren't human and their red eyes, and she screamed and backed into the wall. "Who are they?!"

"They dark ones. They want me to go to their house instead."

"Where is their house?"

"Nowhere. Nothing. Nothingness."

"We don't want you to go with them! Promise me you won't!"

"I don't know . . ." she glanced at Rowan reluctantly. "It looks comfortable there."

...

Taka was working out some of his frustrations at the gym when Sam stumbled inside and fell flat on his face, convulsing and screaming. Taka rushed over to the man and scraped him off the floor, but he continued to flop and wail. The man's chi was roiling, half attached to his body, half attached to something else, a golden thread very far away. Curious, Taka reached into his life force and snapped the thread. Sam's body tensed, arched in agony, and then relaxed. He opened his hazy eyes and looked around in confusion for a brief moment before he grabbed Taka by the t-shirt and shook him.

"You have to get to Kaena now. She's trapped in a prison, and she can't find her way out."

"Prison? How did she-?"

"Not a physical prison. In her mind. She needs you. She's fading. Hurry."

"Where is she?"

"Millennium Park," he croaked, and then passed out. Taka couldn't wait for him to come to, so he shoved the man's limp weight off of his lap, pulled him to a corner where he wouldn't get stepped on, and ran for his car. He slammed on the gas and swung into the mostly deserted street, flooring it. He had felt something was wrong, but he had pushed it down and out of his mind, thinking it was his own conscience eating away at him. Sam's urgent message had made him realize the sick feeling he'd had in his gut all day hadn't been his pain, but hers.

It didn't take long to make it to the park, and he decided to forego all semblance of traffic laws and drive directly through the park and to the bean where he could feel her power. He threw his car in park and dove toward her, only to be caught by Marsden.

"Get off me!" he roared, punching at the man. Marsden groaned as Taka's fist connected solidly, but held on tight.

"Wait, don't just run in there. Rowan got too close unguarded and just dropped. I think . . . I can't feel her spirit. She's breathing, but she's not doing much else."

Taka took a deep breath, then another, and allowed himself to calm slightly. He had to think about this instead of diving in. He slumped and Marsden tentatively released him. "Tell me what happened."

"Sam had a vision, said we had to find her and went to find you. You need to be here with her. I think she's trapped like that, battling herself or something else. She's just expelling all this energy, I can't believe she hasn't collapsed yet. Rowan got too close and I felt . . . I'm not sure."

"Describe it."

"You know my senses aren't as strong as yours, I don't know exactly what-"

"Try," he ground out.

"When I got close, I felt her spirit lapping at me and I closed off, to protect myself. I don't think I even did it intentionally, it just happened. But Rowan can't do that, can she? And when she got close, it's like her life force was just sucked out."

Taka's eyes moved to Rowan's body, collapsed at Kaena's feet, and then he allowed his other senses to probe the energy. It was incredibly powerful, pulsing in a desperate manner. She was in the battle of her life, and he was just standing here talking! And yet there was a thread of something not-Kaena there. Several threads. One was Rowan's disembodied chi clinging desperately to the place between her body and Kaena's. Another was dark, and then there were glints of something else; something that made his head hurt to focus on.

"There's something else you should know. You didn't cheat on her. We found Lena, and she had a nasty persuasion in her. I bet that, wait," he reached out and touched Taka's head. Taka flinched away out of instinct, but the man gave him a quelling look and he relented, allowing the man to probe him. For a man who claimed his chi sense was weak, he sure could probe deeply. "There!" he called, and then Taka felt something ripped out of him. He groaned in pain, and saw the little piece of magic disintegrate in Marsden's grasp. It felt like somebody had ripped a piece of electrical tape out of his brain. It hurt, but underneath he felt clearer than he'd felt in weeks. He hadn't cheated on her at all!

"The tape was fudged and we can prove it, if we need to, but I think you know what you need to know now. What are you going to do?"

"I have to go to her," he set his mouth and stared at Kaena's still, weeping form.

"You'll be sucked in like Rowan. I don't know how to get you out."

"I'll get out when Kaena does," he said. "If I don't get out, tell them I'm sorry. Tell them to fight hard."

He ignored Marsden's protests as he approached his fiancée. She looked so fierce there, so shielded, but he knew that inside she was just a child being torn in too many directions. Maybe he could make the decision easier for her. He dropped his guard, opened his chi, and felt her power lap at his, slowly drawing his power out of his body and into her web. He screamed in pain as his spirit tore from his flesh.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of a cell. He remembered this cell. He had been here before, and so had Kaena. This was where Tenkou had trapped her as a child and tried to steal her body away for his own purposes. Rowan was there, kneeling beside her, speaking to her in gentle tones, trying to keep her gaze off of whatever evil thing was behind the door. Her gaze met his and he saw the relief that filled her.

"Look, honey. Taka's here. Taka came for you."

Kaena's haunted blue eyes met his, and then crinkled in confusion. "He's old," she said.

Rowan bit back a laugh. Taka grinned in a disarming fashion. How to seduce a child to follow him out of this evil trap? How to seduce her innocently, to seduce her to life and love and all the things he knew she wanted.

"I came to get you," he said, kneeling down before her and taking her hand.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

"It was a long journey to get here. Did you know your body is trapped out there? I think those bad people trapped your mind so you'd use up all your energy in the real world and die."

"So?" she looked away from him. "Nobody wants me."

"That's not true," he said, and saw Rowan stepping back from the corner of his eye. Saw her head toward the door and stare at the evil there. He didn't know what she was doing, but her lips were moving fiercely. He focused on Kaena. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody told me, but I know. You left to be with the teacher, and none of the others came to find me. Only Rowan. She said the others didn't know I was in trouble or they would have come. Is that true?" her blue eyes stared accusingly at him.

"If they knew, they would come. Sam warned me. He saw in a vision. Why don't you come back with me? I can show you they all love you and miss you very much. Don't you want to see your mama and papa, too?"

"Are they old now like you?"

"Oh, even older," he laughed. "But they still love you. Why do you want to stay here?"

Her hand drew away from him. "I don't want to stay here. I want to go where it's quiet, where it won't hurt anymore. I don't care where it is as long as it doesn't hurt."

"What hurts?"

"Being alone," she whispered. "Nobody will love you, nobody will come for you," she mimicked some other voice in her child-like tones. "Everybody left me. I came here and nobody followed me."

"Except Rowan and Marsden and me."

"But you left me before," she whispered, hiding her face against her knees. "You didn't want me. Always the strange child, always the one who sees too much, who knows too much, who is too dangerous. Who would want me?"

"I do! I didn't leave you. I—I didn't mean to leave you. I was tricked by the same one who's trying to trick you now. She's alone, and she wants you to think that you're alone too, so that you won't fight her."

"Fight her?"

Taka raked his fingers through his hair and sat down next to her, putting his arm around her. "She wants to destroy everything and she wants you to let her. She tried to make me think you didn't want me either."

"That's not true!"

"I know it's not. See what a liar she is? And now she's trying to do it to you. She's been doing it to you for a while now, I think. How can I prove that she's a liar? If I prove it, will you fight her?"

Kaena seemed to consider. He felt her spirit calming, felt the illusion of this place becoming thin. He glanced over to Rowan and found that she was on her knees with her hands on the door, and she was fiercely rebuking the evil outside the door, reciting some kind of scriptures. And amazingly, the demons were backing away, were shrieking in pain and withdrawing.

"Can you prove you do want me?" she asked shyly.

His mouth went dry as he looked at her little child body. The body of a child, but not the mind there. The mind was vast, and hurting now, but deep and wise in a way that her sweet face betrayed. "What should I do?"

In response, she got to her knees, and the shackles around her wrists broke. She looked up at him shyly, with wide blue eyes and rose petal lips. Her tiny hands touched his face, and his hands covered hers.

The demons surged then, scraping against the door and rattling the bars, and Rowan got to her feet again and pounded the door with her fists. "Get behind me, demons! What is bound on earth is bound in heaven, and I bind you with the name of the one who is good and holy. You have no place here, and you have no hold over this woman or any of us. I rebuke you!" The demons wailed and struggled more fiercely. "There is nothing in heaven or on earth that doesn't bow at the name of the most high," she cried, and he heard wailing like he had never heard before, and scraping as they tried and failed to break through Rowan's shield. He didn't know what kind of magic she was using, but it wasn't anything he had felt before. It reminded him of the power that came through Kaena. He drew his eyes back to her, shutting out the screeching wails of the demons and everything. The little girl-child brought her lips to his, and he pulled her into his lap, and he felt her body change. She was a woman, long, slender fingers touching his face, long legs draped around his waist. He opened his mouth and her tongue plunged inside, and Rowan's incantation reached a fevered pitch and the world wavered suddenly. He felt a jerk like his spirit was being dragged, and he clung to Kaena and her spirit form followed.

Taka collapsed in a heap with Kaena on top of him. Rowan was pushing herself up and looking around frantically. Sam was there—how long had they been there? Day was breaking, and Sam was kissing Rowan, and Kaena was sobbing softly against him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "For giving up hope so easily."

"You don't have to hope," he replied gently, running his fingers through her hair. "We all hope in you enough to sustain you. You just have to let us."

"I hope you enjoyed your little victory. It will be your last," Penelope's voice boomed around them from nowhere and everywhere. Taka had the sense to shield himself and the others just in time. The bean exploded.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

All the chi wielders that could threw up shields around themselves and the others, protecting them from the flying shards of stainless steel that rained down on them like shimmering confetti. "That was a dirty trick," Kaena's blue eyes flashed with deep hatred.

"I'll agree," Luke scowled. He looked like he had been through ten rounds himself. Vinny, Andy, Kajri, and Kaberi were behind him. They were all gathered. Kaena's eyes widened when she saw her father, Nuriko, and Tasuki approach.

"What, you surely did not think we would leave all the fun to you pups?"

Sid barked in reproach at this slight.

Kaena pushed herself to her feet, feeling wobbly and off-kilter. She didn't know how she'd done it, but that woman had been breeding despair in her for the last weeks. Kaena felt like the life had been slowly sapped out of her. She looked at Taka, who had jumped to his feet when the Cloud Gate sculpture exploded, and frowned. She didn't understand what had happened between them, and she needed explanation, but she knew he wanted her still, and she had to trust that whatever had happened between him and Lena was a mistake, and was over now.

"So, will you fight me? Pit your strength against my strength, your control of fate against mine, to see what happens?"

"Ha, some fight that'll be!" Tasuki slapped his metal tessen against his hand. "There's only one of you and, what, eleven of us?"

Alejandro and Theresa appeared from the near-darkness behind Penelope. They looked unhappy and a little frightened. She didn't fancy cutting down two children such as these, but if they supported that maniac Destroyer, there was nothing else to be done.

"I think I can even the odds a little," the woman chuckled coldly, and began to incant. Taka and Vinny rushed her to stop her words, but Alejandro threw up a powerful shield around her, sending them both sprawling onto their backs. Luke held his hand out grimly and made a psychic grab for Alejandro, but the boy's power was stronger and he batted the professor to the ground. Penelope began to chuckle even as she incanted some ancient words that Kaena didn't know. A dry wind picked up, but the breeze didn't rustle the leaves or the grass. Instead, it cut against Kaena's skin like a thousand tiny paper cuts. She swore in frustration and shielded herself.

Unsure of what else to do, Kaena glanced at the strings of fate, but the woman was doing nothing to them just now. She tried to tug a few strands that seemed to be attached the Penelope, but nothing happened. Her laugh turned into a cackle at the attempt, and then she stopped, simply smiling.

Shadows began to crawl around them, dozens of them creeping and writhing just outside her periphery. When she tried to look at them, they darted away. The forms began to solidify, vaguely taking on the shape of men, and finally coming into focus. At least fifty creatures stood around them, surrounding them.

Her father crept up beside her, cocking his head at the things and scowling as fiercely as she'd ever seen him. His brows drew down. "I've seen these before."

"What are they?" Taka asked, coming up to her right side.

"Chaos demons. When I used to communicate with Tenkou, I would see them around. Chaos is the antithesis of fate, and they love to disrupt order. Life is order."

"So they destroy life," Taka's brows drew down in an eerily similar expression.

"Watch yourself," Father warned.

And then they attacked. Half a dozen chaos demons leapt at Kaena while Theresa's powerful fire rained down over them like a volcanic explosion. She saw Tasuki and Vinny knocked to their backs by Alejandro's psychic blasts. Sam was struck in the chest with one of the fireballs, catching his shirt ablaze. Rowan rushed to extinguish a magical fire.

Kajri and Kaberi worked together to fight the fire with wind and water, but demons' barrage was endless, and they fell back, pushed away from her, drawn away from the center of the battle. Father and Taka were taking care of the demons—Alejandro and Theresa's attacks seemed to be focused on the other warriors—but they, too, were being slowly pushed back, away from her. Kaena's head pounded with fear as she watched her warriors, her protectors, her friends, driven away from her and beaten down. Sam was unconscious, maybe dead, and Luke was out of the fight. Vinny was holding his own against three demons, but he was panting and worn. Kajri and Kaberi were faring best, relying on their ancient magic to counter the magic of the demons. Rowan was crying over Sam, shaking him frantically. She was the closest to Kaena, apparently not a threat because she had no magical power to speak of.

She hurt for them, watching them fight her fight, take pain in order to protect her. But they weren't just fighting for her, she knew. They were fighting for everything; for the world, and the future. The demons scraped at her shielding, and Kaena struggled to block them out, to shut up her mind from all of the worry and fear and sorrow. The demons taunted her, kicking her shield so that she couldn't maintain balance, shifting from one foot to the other to avoid the earth shattering power of their evil, twisted magic.

Somebody screamed in the distance, Kaberi's agonized cry, and a wail from Vinny and Taka—somebody had fallen. She knew it was Andy. She swiped hot tears from her cheeks and returned to Penelope. The woman stood there cooly, dark hair blowing around her in the churning winds that her demons had stirred.

Suddenly Sid was in front of her, snarling and snapping at the demons, and they retreated for a moment, oddly. The dog's chi glowed with power, and she blinked in confusion.

"For the love of pete, Alejandro! Take care of this mongrel!"

Alejandro appeared, tattered and beaten as any of her people, and stared at Sid, who whined at him and thumped his tail once. Kaena thought for one incredulous moment that Sid was trying to make friends with the little bastard, but when Alejandro's chi surged for attack, the dog growled again.

"What are you waiting for? Kill it!"

"I can't kill a dog," he muttered. "People, but not dogs."

With outrage clearly written on her features, she reached for a strand of fate. Kaena saw what it was before she touched it, and grabbed the same strand, countering her vicious tug. Nothing happened to the dog. "Argh!" Penelope screamed, marched over and kicked the dog hard in the side. He yipped and bounced a couple feet, whining and running off to nurse his ribs.

"You bitch!" Luke groaned from the ground, reaching for her psychically. She lurched and slammed into the ground, and Luke grinned. Alejandro had no compunctions about smashing his face repeatedly against the dirt. His glasses shattered and a piece squelched sickeningly into one of his eyes, and he lay still.

The demons were scrambling around her again, no longer warded off by Sid the magic dog, and every attempt Kaena made to attack or retreat or simply open up to let that bottomless well of power surge through her failed. She screamed in frustration and kicked out at the demons, sending one screeching into oblivion. She hit another, but two more replaced the first.

"Kaena!" she heard her father call. Thank goodness he was all right. "You have to open up and let your true power out."

"I can't," she wailed over the din. "Every time I try to center myself, she attacks! Her stupid demon minions attack!"

Her father's fight was dragging him further away, and Taka was putting up an incredible fight, but was overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Tasuki's fireballs had finally ceased, so he was out of commission.

"It's hopeless. You can't fight against these numbers, and I can always summon more of them. Do you think you stand a chance against chaos unleashed here? Cleansing is so much better than watching them all die, of starvation, of accidents, of murder as their base desires are unleashed," Penelope sat perched on a nearby railing. Feeling spiteful, Kaena tugged a strand that caused bolts to pop out all along the structure. It collapsed under her weight. She floated above it looking amused. "What are you trying to save, anyway? If I kill them all, there will be nothing left for you."

"Why don't you just kill me?" Kaena spat.

Penelope frowned and didn't answer. Kaena mirrored her frown. Surely the woman wasn't just toying with her. Kaena stood in the way of her success, but she hadn't really tried to kill her, not truly. Physically speaking, Penelope was probably stronger. Maybe she didn't because she couldn't. Kaena felt comprehension hit her like a ton of bricks. "You can't kill me."

"Neither can you kill me," she shrugged.

"But why?"

"Because we are outside of fate, and what we both have power over is fate. You can disintegrate railings all you like, but you can't pull the strings that will bring about the end of my life."

"Then why not just beat me to death?"

"Well, I am trying," Penelope pointed out.

"So we can be killed, just not by our special talent. But if I managed to stab you, you'd die like anybody else." Of course. But Kaena stood in the way. As long as she was there to repair the strands of fate, total chaos would be unable to rule. But if Kaena couldn't use her special power to stop the woman, would she simply have to stop her with her power? Could she? Not presently, clearly. She didn't know what she was meant to do here.

Her warriors were getting tired, and some had fought as much as they could fight, and the chaos demons were multiplying, breeding in the wake of destruction. She knew she had to stop doing and just be.

"Can anybody protect me long enough to let me figure out what to do?" Kaena called out. Nobody answered. "Taka? Father?"

There was no response. Kajri screamed in pain in the distance. The fighting was becoming less—the demons were moving toward her, focusing on her as their other obstacles disappeared. She felt helplessness rise up within her, and hopelessness. How could she defeat the woman if the demons were slowly beating her down, keeping her thoughts from where they needed to go? If she let down her guard to open her spirit to that deep power of the Creator's, she would be killed.

"There is no hope here, Kaena," Penelope laughed. "Why do you insist upon fighting me? Just let go, and all of this will stop forever. A new earth, a new heaven, everything renewed. This shithole will not be missed."

"That's not for you to decide," a voice rasped from behind. Rowan limped toward Kaena, and Kaena extended her shield around her to keep her safe. "I saw what you tried to do to Kaena. I saw that you had to take away her hope because otherwise her hope would have sustained her. You fear that. But the fact that there is still hope shows that there is still good here."

"Little girl, what do you know? Have you felt pain?" the Destroyer asked, and Kaena saw pain flash across her features. This was a woman that knew pain. Too much pain, perhaps, to want to continue.

"We've all felt it," she retorted. "Some of us choose not to let it defeat us. You want us all to be defeated. What caused you such pain that you want to—want all of us—to roll over and die? We're humans, and humans want to survive no matter what. We weren't created to die but to live."

Penelope took a step back. Kaena was tempted to do the same. Rowan's chi was roiling around her in a way Kaena hadn't seen before. It was pure, and it was righteous, and it was angry.

"If I keep the demons away, can you do what you need to do?" she asked softly.

"Yes, but-"

"Then leave it to me," her eyes narrowed fiercely. Kaena didn't know from what well she drew her strength, but she could have used a drink from it about now. "Praised be the Lord my rock," she whispered, "who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle. He is my loving God, my stronghold and my fortress."

Something odd happened then. Kaena saw the demons jump back from them, with fear written on their non-human faces. Rowan continued to mutter her incantation or prayer or whatever it was she said to drive them away. "Part your heavens and come down; touch the mountains, so that they smoke. Send forth lightning and scatter the enemy; shoot your arrows and rout them. Reach down your hand from on high; deliver me and rescue me from the mighty waters, from the hands of those whose mouths are full of lies, whose right hands are deceitful."

Energy crackled around them, and struck the demons so that they smoked and disintegrated like dust in the wind. The demons were retreating now, and Penelope was screaming at them, screaming at Alejandro and Theresa to attack Rowan, to stop her powerful words. Kaena dropped her shield and closed her eyes. Trust that Rowan is protected, she thought to herself, hope for what might be. Please help me, she prayed to the goddess, please let me be your instrument. Desperation filled her and she collapsed to her knees, praying for help, for assistance, to stop that evil woman and to help her friends, to do anything. Anything. "What you will," she whispered.

And suddenly a burning power rushed through her, burning her, burning her out, and Kaena faded as the power that made all things, that hung the sun in the sky and set the earth and moon around it, who made humans and all creatures surged through her, out of her. Kaena felt the last vestiges of her spirit float away like the blasted demons as the goddess took her body.

...

"There will be no breaching of walls, no going into captivity, no cry of distress in our streets. Blessed is the people of whom this is true; blessed is the people whose God is the Lord," Rowan finished reciting the Psalm she had memorized long ago, a Psalm she had taken to her heart to give her strength and courage when she had none. And demons had fled before the power of it. She watched as an atomic light filled Kaena, pouring out of her skin and hair and eyes, illuminating her like the brightest of day. Penelope tripped as she scrambled away, scuttling backwards to escape the power there.

"Who are you? Who are you?!" she screamed.

"I have seen your pain, and answered your cry, but you have turned away from me," Kaena's lips spoke, but it was not Kaena that spoke. Rowan fell to her knees and wept at the beauty of what was inside Kaena's body. "And now you try to destroy my creation; all of the lovely things I have put here for you and all my children to enjoy."

"It's not lovely! It's not lovely! A father beating his daughter, raping his daughter! That's not lovely! Being kicked out on the street, being a prostitute, being shunned by everybody because strange things happen around the girl! That's not lovely or beautiful."

"You have suffered ugly things, child," the voice was gentle, so gentle that it moved the woman to tears. "And I am sad to say that these things have been ordained, not because I willed them, but because that is the nature of this world. Good and evil share space."

"Why do you let it continue? Can't you stop it?"

"I stand beside all humanity in the fight against wickedness, and together we fight, but it is a long battle. An endless one. But know this, child: I will triumph in the end. I do so with the help of my faithful ones."

Penelope wept, true tears, because who would not weep at the probing eyes of such an incredible power? Rowan was weeping for her own ugliness, her own part in the evil of the world, and the goddess wasn't even looking at her. To have those fathomless eyes on you, seeing your soul—how could the woman bear it?

"I have given you a gift, but you have misused it. The gift was to be my special vessel, to dance the strands of fate to show truth and fight injustice. But now I will take my gift from you. Will you still oppose me with your considerable power?"

The woman hid her face as she sobbed. It seemed like hours before she shook her head. It was barely noticeable, but the goddess understood. She smiled. "I forgive you."

Penelope only wept more wretchedly. Her minions fell down on their knees, seeming more relieved than defeated. The goddess swung her hand, and the demon's disappeared into nothingness, with no wailing or screeching—they were simply gone.

Rowan's body trembled as the goddess came to stand in front of her, smiling with a benevolence that she had only seen on the paintings of the saints. "You have done well, Rowan. I am glad you believe yet."

"But-" she stammered, not even trying to stand up to face this being directly. "But I lost faith."

"You found it again," she laughed gently.

"Did I? I still don't know—how do I know that what I believe is right, when standing right in front of me is another incarnation of what I think is, is God. That book is dead. It doesn't encompass this."

"The book gives a glimpse, a look at how some have experienced me through the ages. It is no less true for being incomplete. Do I not stand before you? This is your scripture."

"Are the others going to be all right?" she whispered, looking at Marsden, who had been knocked out trying to defend the injured Sam, and Sam who was still, unmoving. Andy, it seemed, had died. Luke was hideously wounded. "Can you heal them?"

"Andy has come to join the cycle again," she said a little sadly. "He was a great-souled man. Sam will heal, slowly. Luke will have a tougher time. And this one," she walked toward Marsden. "I believe I have something of his."

Rowan followed a few steps behind, and the goddess extended her hand, touching his head. Marsden's face screwed up in pain, and then relaxed in unconsciousness once again. "My servant extended my forgiveness to him, and he did not waste his second chance." She touched Sam's chest lightly.

"So it's over now?"

"This was only one battle," the deity shrugged, walking toward Luke and touching him. She went to Taka, to Kaena's father, to those who were still alive, and did something to them. Imbued them with some of her power, maybe. "There will always be more, but none like this one. Not for a long time. Not in your lifetime. It was lovely to chat with you, my strong tree. I always have enjoyed our chats."

"Must you go?"

"This vessel can only contain me for so long," she whispered, and sure enough, the light was fading from her, and Kaena's body was wavering, tumbling. "Until we meet again."

Rowan ran to catch Kaena, but Taka had gotten to his feet and made it first. Kaena's face was ashen gray, her lips chalky and blue. Her beautiful blonde hair shimmered in the early morning light, reflecting the red and gold of the sunrise, but her face was still, and her chest did not rise.

"Kaena," he whispered, shaking her gently. "It's time to come back now. Kaena, come back. I love you. I came to find you, now you have to come back to me."

Kaena's father sat up behind them, his mouth pressed into a hard line. There was agony in his eyes that hurt Rowan to look upon. Taka clutched her and leaned over her, shaking her harder and harder. His knuckles were white, leaving little indentations where he gripped her, but she was still. Kaena was dead, used up by the deity inside.

"You promised!" Taka screamed to the heavens. "You promised me all those years ago! I lost everything, and you brought me back, and I served you! I had no choice but to serve you! Is this how you reward your servants? By using them up until there's nothing left?! You promised! You promised," his voice dropped to a whisper and his breath hitched. "You promised we'd be together."

His tears trickled down his cheeks, and Rowan's heart ached. Sid howled dolefully, standing next to them. Taka's tears sparkled in the sunlight, and he whispered again and again for her to come back. "You promised," she heard him say as he gently laid her body on the soft grass. "God, you promised."

The wind rustled. "I never break my Word," it whispered back, rushing over them, through them, and Kaena took one shallow, hiccuping breath, and then another, and her eyes fluttered open. Taka knelt over her weeping, clutching her clothing and hiding his face against her. He helped her sit up and she leaned against him. She opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped. Rowan imagined that no words would come to her for a while. She knew she wouldn't be able to express what she had seen, and Kaena hadn't just seen it, she had been it.

Sam gasped and Rowan ran to his side. She helped him to sit. His chest was badly burned, but he was lucid. She cried into his shoulder and kissed him until he had to push her off so he could breathe. Marsden stood up, looking a little dazed. His eyes moved to Kaena and Taka, and then to Kaena's father. His face was strange for more than the massive bruise upon his forehead.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Rowan managed to croak.

"They're back," he whispered. "All the memories. I am . . . deeply ashamed."

"Can I tell you something true?" she asked him.

"What's that?"

"You are forgiven."

He nodded at her, and managed a weak smile before going over to help Nakago to his feet. Kajri was comforting Kaberi, who wept openly for Andy. Vinny had laid his body out nearby, and closed his eyes. Sid was barking at Luke.

"Shut up, Sid," Luke growled. He threw off his broken glasses and pulled the massive chunk of glass from his eyeball, which bled profusely. Vinny handed him a cloth. "Shit. My dreams of becoming a pilot have been dashed."

Tasuki and Nuriko limped over together. "Can you believe we used to enjoy this shit?" Nuriko asked in disbelief. "I'm way too old for this."

"What're you talkin' about?" Tasuki grinned. "That was great fun! Can't wait to do it again!"

Suddenly a car screeched up to the curb, and Miaka ran out, panting and sporting the biggest scowl Rowan had ever seen in her life. "Mrs. Gi, what are you doing here?"

"More to the point," Vinny looked at her curiously. "Why weren't you here sooner? I'd have thought you'd be in the trenches after the stories you told me!"

"Oh, I would have been, except that my sneaky, tricky, VILE husband tied me up and locked me in a closet! The nerve! I could have died of a heart attack in there and nobody would have found me until my body was stinking next week!"

"We'd have found you before that," Nakago assured her calmly.

Taka quirked Nakago a little grin. "That took some balls. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same, knowing her proclivity to jump into a battle unarmed."

Miaka shot him a glare that could have melted plastic and went to tend to her battered husband despite her harsh words. She also had the sense to call a private ambulance, and so all the injured were taken to the hospital in style. Rowan rode along with Sam, holding his hand. He didn't ask how she had been the only person left standing, but he could see admiration in his eyes.

"I told you you'd live," she said softly, grinning.

He groaned noncommittally.

Rowan smiled outright. She was saddened by Andy's death, but knew that where ever he was, he was not neglected by a caring deity. Penelope had wandered off, seemingly dazed. The other two had just sat there in the park, and were still there for all she knew. She reflected on what she had done to protect Kaena, or rather what had happened because of her words. Those had been words of scripture, from the 144th Psalm, and they had turned demons away. She had spoken face to face with God, and had been told that she had found her faith. Rowan thought maybe it had never gone anywhere, Rowan had just pushed it away.

All in all, it had been a pretty exciting few weeks. She had met a drifter who turned out to be a friend and lover, she had made wonderful friends, lost her faith, found it again, cast out demons, faced a crazed woman bent on earth's destruction, and spoken to God. And to think, she still had another month of summer vacation. The wail of the ambulance's siren lulled her and she put her head down beside Sam's, kissing his cheek. She could not say her life was boring anymore, that was for sure.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Taka bounced up and down on his heels and spun, knocking into Luke and nearly toppling the cheese tray that had been delivered to the room in which he and the groomsmen were waiting. Luke tripped over something and went down, cursing him.

Chueii, his younger brother who was just about the same age as him thanks to his nine lives, grabbed his shoulder and grinned broadly. "Jeez, bro, take a breath."

"I can't help it. What if I get up there and she says 'I don't?!'" he felt forgot to exhale for a while and almost fell over. Chueii led him over Luke, who was now glaring at him and nursing his sore shoulder. He took off his eye patch and experimentally opened his eye.

"I can see, hallelujah," he intoned in the flattest voice Taka had ever heard.

Taka smiled weakly, although the others laughed. Vinny was there, and Nuriko was bustling around as their personal wedding planning, organizing everything, picking up, steaming jackets and making sure that the cumberbunds were all the exact same shade of deep berry red, the same shade as the bridesmaid dresses (which he had also helped pick out, much to Kaberi's disappointment). Hotohori sat in the corner, smiling discreetly at it all. Taka just felt sick.

"What's the worst that can happen?" Vinny offered unhelpfully.

Taka hyperventilated. Somebody handed him a paper bag. It wasn't that he was nervous about being married, he had realized belatedly. It was that he was worried about failing at marriage. He was in his thirties and hadn't been in a serious relationship in years before Kaena. He had done a lot of things in his many lifetimes, but this was not one of them. He didn't want to disappoint her. He had already disappointed her enough for ten lifetimes.

It had taken some time for her to truly trust him, and maybe she still didn't trust him completely. That would be a hard won battle—it always had been, with her. Her trust was a precious gift, and he had broken it, not through any fault of his own, but because he had been used by Penelope for her scheme to isolate Kaena, to use her loneliness as a weapon. And Kaena knew that, because they had talked about it at length, but he suspected that her forgiveness wasn't complete. She had been reserved around him, more reserved than usual, and distant. Part of that was because of the last minute rushing and changing of details thanks to the destruction that took place in the park, but anxiety gnawed at him.

"Taka," Luke finally said, adjusting his glasses over his eye patch. Taka suspected he had harangued his doctor into giving him permission to take it off just for today. His eye was still not fully healed—never would fully heal, but it was improving. He rubbed his bad eye gently and then sat down. "She said yes."

"What?"

"When you asked her if she still wanted to marry you, if she wanted to push back the wedding or if she wanted to do it as on schedule as planned, didn't she say yes?"

Taka grimaced. "Yes, but what if-"

"No. No what if. This is now. You're getting married to an incredible jewel of a human being. You need to relax and enjoy this day. She said yes. She won't leave you floundering at the altar. To think otherwise is to insult her integrity."

The seasoned warrior stared at his friend and comrade for a minute. He was right, wasn't he? Kaena didn't know how to begin to be anything less than earnest. True, she guarded her deepest self like a bank vault, but she wouldn't lie to him. She wouldn't mislead him. A small part of his brain added the word 'intentionally' to that statement, but he knew that whatever happened, Kaena believed with her whole heart that this was what she wanted. And she was probably just as nervous as him. Taka sighed.

"You're right."

He quirked a dark brow as if to say, I'm a professor, I'm always right, even when I'm wrong. Taka knew this because he knew the man, and he'd never say it out loud, but he would sure think it. And he would think it because it was true.

"It's just about that time," Nuriko sang cheerily, straightening his boutineer and flattening his lapels. "All you have to do is stand there. She has a long walk to you, and you just have to stand. Can you do that, Taka, or do we need to prop you?"

"Funny," he punched the smaller man gently on the arm. "Get your ass out where it belongs."

"If I hadn't just straightened you all out, I'd thrash you," Nuriko bared his teeth in a friendly snarl. "Line up, gents. We're going to take the long walk to the front and I'll arrange you all and then I'll get my ass where it belongs."

Taka followed Nuriko out the door, followed by Chueii, Luke, and Vinny. They marched their way from their comfortable chambers to the crisp autumn air and warm sunlight. The lovely mix of modern and Grecian architecture was accented by berry, brown, and deep pumpkin shades, with a hint of champagne laced up the great stone pillars and around the lovely fountain. A small platform indicated the place where the bridal party and the minister would stand, and blackwood chairs strung with lilies and ivy lined the courtyard with their friends and family. The minister, a friend of Vinny's who they had met with several times before the disaster broke out, and a few times after, greeted him warmly. The man was older, greying and fatherly. Taka saw his own father, and the rest of his family sitting in the reserved rows and gave them a cocky smile that he didn't feel. Miaka and Nakago sat with all of the seishi and friends that could make it. Taka's colleagues filled up quite a few seats, and his poker buddies and their girlfriends or future one-night-stands. Right up front were Marsden and Sam. Kaena had fewer friends present, but a few of her professors had shown up. Most of Kaena's friends were in the bridal party. They were few, but they were close.

The string quartet began to play softly, a gentle, lilting tune, sweetly sung by the violin. The second violin and viola wound a counter melody around it while the cello languished low, adding body to the anthem. The melody began to soar, and Taka's heart thumped like a drum. His rubbed his sweaty palms on his tuxedo, glad that the wedding had been postponed toward the end of August. It would have been ungodly hot in July. Traditional Kajri appeared first. Her dress matched his cumberbund perfectly. It was floor length, fitting her graceful figure perfectly. The neckline was tasteful, and the sleeves came down nearly to her elbow. Her dress was decorated with golden flecks, in patterns that abstractly echoed her bouquet. Kaberi followed, her dress in the same deep berry shade, but of a modern cut, sleeveless, with asymmetrical beading down one side of the fitted bodice. Rowan appeared, the color somehow complimenting both her pale skin and the deep dusky brown of the Indian twins. Rowan's dress was cut similarly to Kaberi's, but with elaborate crinkling (Kaena had called it "rouching") around her waist. The three of them slowly processed, and Taka swallowed, keeping his eyes on them so that he wouldn't pass out. Focus, he thought to himself. And breathe!

The melody slowly built to a climax, and despite his coaching, Taka held his breath. The violins soared and the viola and cello filled the chords beautifully so that when the piece reached its climax and Kaena stepped onto the carpet at the end of the endless courtyard (had it always seemed so large?), it seemed like the heavenly chorus must have been playing and singing. She was a vision in a pale cream dress that shifted with each step like leaves fluttering in the breeze. The glass beads glinted off the morning sunlight, and the bodice, cut to expose only the tops of her creamy breasts, seemed like some mythical garment bestowed by the gods of ancient Greece. His eyes followed the line of her body up to her face. An opal necklace rested in the sweet curve of her throat, emphasizing her long neck. Her golden hair was pulled back from her face, in ringlets which seemed to fall haphazardly, yet perfectly. A few ringlets around her face waved in the gentle breeze.

Taka swallowed. Kaena approached, every step like the moments before climax, so sweet, unending. Her face was a cool mask, ivory marble, and her icy sapphires stared at him, into him. She met her eyes and did not look away again. He kept her gaze as the bridesmaids took their places, and he did not look away as Kaena took her place beside him. The minister spoke, and Taka barely heard a word, so entranced was he by this angel that escaped from heaven. Suddenly his brother was nudging him, and he said "I will" and "I do" at the whispered coaching of Nuriko. There were titters of laughter. And then the minister was asking Kaena the same questions, and without hesitation, she also answered, "I will" and "I do." Somebody shoved a ring in his hand and he placed it on Kaena's delicate, tapered fingers, and then she was putting a ring on him. It felt heavy. He did not release her hands.

"And so, if Taka can tear his eyes away from his bride long enough to kiss her, I will pronounce this couple husband and wife," the minister chuckled. The guests laughed, and Kaena was looking at him with something odd in her eyes. Panic. Vulnerability. It finally hit him that she had been just as afraid that he would reject her in the last, that she had been just as scared as him. He squeezed her hands and grinned a little, allowing himself to breathe again, and pulled her close.

"You wore heels," he grinned, looking up at her.

"Three inches," she smiled down at him.

He stood on his toes and she bent her head down to him, and their lips pressed together, and that warmth he had felt when he first met her again, when they first made love, and when they had laid together talking and learning to be together filled him from head to toe. The guests clapped and cheered, and they walked away down the aisle. Taka wanted to throw her in the waiting limousine and simply disappear to their honeymoon location, but there were the photos, and the receiving line, and then there were toasts, and Rowan gave a lovely toast, and Chueii gave an admirable effort, and then there was the father-daughter dance, and then he had trouble letting her go long enough to throw the bouquet.

When they sat down to do the garter toss, Taka grinned, ready to make a show and embarrass her. Nakago stood behind her, giving him the fiercest frown Taka had ever seen appear on the face of any mortal man, and Taka primly removed the garter, tossed it, and returned to dancing with his bride. She took off her shoes, and then they were the same height again, and they danced. The rest of the night was so much of a blur that he was glad there was a photographer there because he wanted to be able to look back and remember everything, but his elation overwhelmed every rational sense in him, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't have known his name if he'd been asked. All he knew was the feeling of dancing with his body pressed close against his wife, and her firm grip on him, and the way her golden curls tickled his ear as she leaned her head on his shoulder. This was clearly paradise.

...

Sam stood off to the side, fingering the delicately creped garter that he'd caught. Rowan sidled up beside him, awkwardly holding the bouquet. She looked up at him covertly, and then back at Taka and Kaena, who were off in their own world, twirling around the dance floor again and again. He nudged her gently.

"You look really pretty today. I don't know if I said that already," he said. "Not that you don't look pretty every day!"

"I knew what you meant," her dimples winked at him, and he melted a little inside. She continued casually. "I see you caught the garter."

"I see you caught the bouquet," he said just as casually.

"I have to go back to Colorado soon," she said. "I was wondering-"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask!"

"The answer is always yes," he took her hand and kissed it.

"So you'll come with me, to help me move?"

"Move?" he blinked.

"I'm transferring to Loyola Chicago, but I left all my furniture and books in storage. I have about a million books. So you'll help me? You did already agree."

"Of course," he grinned. "And then when you move here?"

"I was thinking that, now that you aren't having your visions anymore, maybe you'd want to do it to? I, um, don't be mad."

"Mad about . . ."

"I'm not trying to change you or anything, but I know how you mentioned that you would have liked to do the whole normal thing for a while. I kind of sent in an application for you. I sent them a writing sample from your journal in lieu of an essay. You got a scholarship. Um, a big one, if you'll join in their creative writing program. You can have another major too if you want. Admissions were closed for the fall, but they want you to start in the spring."

"Trying to find the next Shakespeare, I see," he laughed.

"You're not mad?"

"Well, I kind of wish you'd asked me before sending out my social security number and all that, how DID you find that, I wonder, but I'm not mad. Kind of amused. You do realize that I don't have a high school diploma or anything, right?"

"I explained that in your addendum," she smiled sheepishly.

"And I take it you got in?"

"And got a way better scholarship than I'd gotten at CCC!" she huffed.

Sam put his arm around her and squeezed. This was definitely not normal. He didn't have the paralyzing visions anymore, but he still had the dreams sometimes. He had a feeling he would be seeing things he needed to see forever, but it didn't feel like such a curse anymore. At least now he knew people who would believe his prophecies.

"I think I'll check it out," Sam said thoughtfully.

"I thought you'd like it. And just think of all the books you'll have access to for free!"

He grinned, looking at his priestess and his friend. "Should I tell Taka he got two big envelopes from U of Chicago and Stanford today? I saw them when I went over to Kaena's to pick up his shoes."

Rowan's eyes widened, understanding the significance. "No," she said at last. "Let him savor this victory today."

Sam watched as Luke and Kajri waltzed across the dance floor, standing at a proper distance, but staring deeply into each other's eyes. Kaberi sat with Marsden, talking animatedly with him about some topic or another. Kaena's parents were holding hands under the table and watching their daughter and son-in-law with mixed expressions. Sam had no visions, but he did have a dream last night. He saw them together, he saw all of them together, living their lives and doing whatever they were meant to do, and best of all, they were happy. There were hard times, that was for certain. There would always be bad times, because as Rowan had told him, the goddess had said that she was struggling too, fighting the evil, striving to free them. There would be bad times, he knew, but there would be good times enough to outweigh the bad ten-fold. And if there weren't, they would still face it all together. That had not been prophecy, but it was Sam's dream.

...

Rowan brushed her hair out of her sweaty face and shoved the last box into her car. Sam had helped to hook her car to the moving truck's hitch, but then she had remembered that she had left three boxes with one of her friends, so she had gone to fetch them on campus.

"I just need to pick up a copy of my transcript and my final account report at the administrative building, so we can just run in and then be on the road. We'll probably make it to Topeka tonight."

Sam grinned. "Maybe we can stay where we stayed that first night. Maybe I can even get you naked, unlike last time."

"Oh, psh," she shoved him playfully. "I think you just have some weird goal to have sex in every hotel between here and Chicago."

"I'll wait in the truck. This campus kind of gives me the creeps."

"Yeah, me too," Rowan admitted, and headed off toward the administrative building. She'd stop by the registrar first, and then hit up the business office on her way out. Classes would be starting soon, and she was hoping to avoid most of the people, so she took a back way to get there that was longer but more out of the way. She entered the back door of the building and ran headlong into the last person she wanted to see.

"Hey, Ro, how are you? Long time no see," he said amiably.

"Don't call me Ro, Grant," she frowned at him. "Excuse me."

She didn't give him a chance to speak and went to the registrar's office to obtain her transcript, which took an uncomfortably long time considering they just had to print it. She headed to the business office to make a final payment for last semester's tuition and get her loan reimbursements. She returned to the back entrance only to find Grant still standing there playing with his phone.

"Jeez, you're so slow."

"Is there a reason you're stalking me?" she glared at him, pushing past. He was smug as ever. His face, which she had once found handsome, was now only average to her. Being surrounded by men like Sam and Luke and Kaena's handsome father had refined her tastes. He followed a step behind.

"So what classes are you taking this semester?"

"I'm not. I'm transferring."

"Oh, I guess you couldn't take the pressure after all."

Rowan sped up and said nothing to him, but he continued to follow her. She could see the moving truck, with Sam's lean form leaning against it. She smirked as he pulled his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing his defined abdomen.

"Who's that guy?"

"My boyfriend."

Sam's skin had paled a bit since he hadn't been spending so much time outside, and his hair had darkened to some sandy shade between brown and blonde. He took a swig from his water bottle, and Rowan sped up once again. She didn't know why the asshole was following her. Well, yes, she did. It had dawned on her that men like Grant used vulnerable women to make themselves feel bigger, by making others feel smaller. She had never understood the logic—making others feel worthless didn't give you any intrinsic worth—but he seemed to get his jollies from it. Something Kaena's father said to her after the battle struck her. He had said that an outstanding person shines without the reflection of anybody around. Others would make the light shine brighter, but truly amazing people always had that spark. It had taken Rowan a lot of pain to discover it, but after her struggle with her faith this summer, she had come to realize that there was a light in her. She had known it logically, but she had never felt it before, but when she had invoked holy scriptures to rebuke evil, she had felt that little spark of something divine in herself. And if there was something divine in her, there was something shining brightly even when she didn't feel she was shining so brightly. And if that light thought she was a worthy vessel, well, who was she to argue?

She approached Sam with a smile and hugged him.

"Did you get what you needed?" he asked, glancing over her shoulder with a frown.

"Yes, although I found some extra baggage along the way," she glanced behind with her eyes.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Sam said, extending his strong, rough hand. Rowan stepped aside and smiled a little to herself. Seeing them together was laughable. Beside tall, fit Sam, Grant was square and coarse. Sam was different from him in every sense. Sam was taller, leaner, with delicate features rather than rough ones and light hair and eyes instead of dark. Grant grinned, and she knew what would happen. He was about to belittle him. She wanted to jump to his rescue, but knew he didn't need it.

"So what do you do?"

"I'm starting college in the winter. Just looking for work now after a cross country move."

"Oh, "in between jobs" are you?" he smirked.

"No, I've actually never had a job in my life. Not a regular 9-5 one, anyway. I actually didn't even graduate from high school."

Grant barked a laugh. "So what school are you going to? Some Jr. college?"

"Oh, no, I got a full ride to Loyola, along with Rowan."

"Loyola Chicago?" his jaw dropped.

"Didn't you apply to Loyola?" Rowan stroked her chin thoughtfully. She knew he had, and she knew he had not been accepted. She stopped herself from rubbing it in more. She didn't need to make him feel small to feel big.

Grant steamed, and then put his hand over his mouth as if he was about to say something mano y mano. "Well, hope you're enjoying her. Just so you know, she's not very good in bed and she kind of porks up once she gets into a relationship," he whispered loudly.

"Oh, really? We have fantastic sex, so I guess it must've been your problem. I know how sometimes men get a complex, have to compensate for things..."

"You!"

"No, you," Rowan stopped him, angry now. This ass had messed with her head enough and he was going to stop. She gestured to her gut, to her backside, and then up and down her whole body. "Do you see this? All of this? It doesn't exist for you or anybody else. It's there for my pleasure, and my use, and I don't need you or anybody else to validate it. Unbelievably, some people value others not based on their appearance or what they can get from them, but because they are genuinely concerned about their well-being as a person. Don't pretend you have a compassionate bone in your entire body or that you're standing here to do anything other than to make me and Sam feel small, like you try to make everybody feel small. Well, here's a news flash. You are nothing to me, as you should have always been, and nothing can make me feel bad about myself. I am moving across the country, and I expect you to never darken my doorstep, or moving truck step again. And if you do, I'm not going to stop myself from kicking you in the balls."

"She probably won't stop me from beating you to within an inch of your life either," Sam added helpfully. "Just saying."

Grant opened his mouth to say something, and Sam glanced at her. She shrugged. Sam punched the man in the mouth. She didn't know if he'd broken it, but she heard a distinct crunch, and then the only sound she heard from him was his moan of pain as he hit the ground. Sam climbed in and slid over to the driver's side.

"I can't believe you ever dated that guy, or slept with him. Ew. You can do so much better."

"I already have," she laughed and climbed in after him, kissing his cheek before she plopped down and buckled herself in. He grinned at her, and Rowan started the truck. She glanced in the side mirror and saw him still sprawled there, trying to scrape himself off the pavement unsuccessfully. She chuckled, deeply satisfied at this vision, and drove away from Colorado Christian College and bad history and best of all, toward a lot of new things.

Her little gold cross felt light against her skin, tickling her as the seatbelt shifted between her breasts, and she glanced down at it briefly, and smiled. The road home was long, but she was excited to see where it would take her.


End file.
